#astarion: go ahead and try

[thedragonagelesbian]

chewing on this forever actually (like astarion chewing on cyrus)

[gilded-gheists]

JUST started a good Durge playthrough and I'm dying over my absolute little guy bard Tinfoil.

[laurasbailey]

next bg3 playthrough i’m respeccing the women into offensive spellcasters while i play barb or monk bc i can’t take another 200+ hours of the absolute dramatic whiny nonsense that comes from the men (i love the game i love that the men are whiny and selfish it’s realistic but yes)

[aro-tarot]

Looks like my brother is going to get BG3 while he’s recovering from surgery later this month. He’s supposed to just chill, so he was interested in it. The characters (Astarion keeps coming up on his Tiktok, and now he knows all the characters can be romanced by any gender) and the races and made him interested, so I just spent idk how long just showing him everything like the races and subclasses and a bit of the combat.

He’s a gamer at all. He liked DA:O, and not only does this game have cool characters, cough Astarion cough, there’s an easy mode and it’s turn-based, so he can get the hang of it.

Also, he can live his half-orc cleric dream.

[lovelybluebirdie]

What is yours

Astarion x gn!Reader

Summary: A stroll through the market evokes an unpleasant sensation in Astarion.

Word Count: 3,1k

hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff

[ AO3 ]

The warm rays of the midday sun bathed the markets’ goods in a marvellous light. The place was bustling, a scent of spices lingering in the air and hurried voices brimming. 

If someone had told Astarion that one day he’d be able to move around Baldur’s Gate so freely again, he’d probably huffed merely a dry laugh – and yet here he was, following you through the narrow streets of his city, admiring how much colour the world had to offer.

Of course it was you who had dragged him along for the mundane task to gather some food for your companions back at camp. Astarion couldn't care less to fill up their bellies, as his own appetite was perfectly stilled from your generosity when it came to offer him your blood, but one blink from your doe eyes had been enough to convince him to accompany you.

Well, that, and perhaps that warm feeling that refused to leave his chest when he was with you. 

It was obvious that you loved to stroll around the market, savouring the colourful impressions while taking a break from all the fighting and gore your journey to rid yourself from the tadpoles held for you. 

Astarion had never watched you spending your coin so lightly before. You probably thought it was time to treat yourself once in a while, and who was he to deny you this little pleasure? He had to admit that he actually adored seeing your face light up over the different trinkets you bought, eagerly filling your bags and pouches with your newest additions.

“Let's get some fruit for the others while we’re at it,” you suggested, pointing towards a merchant presenting an inviting range of fresh goods. “Something nutritious seems much needed after we fed mostly on leftovers for the past weeks.”

Your shoulders were loaded with the various goods you had already bought – dyes, herbs, some new toys for Scratch and the owlbear cub and a bunch of flasks to fill with potions.

“As you wish,” Astarion replied, when a display of weapons caught his eye. His last pair of daggers had become rather blunt from the Goblin throats he’d cut, so maybe it was time to treat himself as well, he thought and gently grabbed your wrist.  

“On second thought, why don't you go ahead while I'll have another look around here, my love?” he asked and came to a stop. “I haven't much expertise to add when it comes to your culinary needs, and those daggers look rather appealing.”

“Sounds fine with me, but try not to spend all of our gold at once,” you teased and squeezed his shoulder.

“Hah, you're one to talk. Please remind me, who was it again that just bought five new toys for Scratch, so he had a set of different colours to choose from?”

“He needs some variety,” you muttered, trying to keep up a serious expression. “But nevermind, see you in a minute then.” 

You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and waved, already on your way to spend some more of your coin.

Astarion couldn’t help but smile over your excitement for the market, before he picked up a dagger from the display in front of him. The handle appeared to be of higher quality than his current ones, and the blade looked sharp enough to inflict some hurt.

As he gazed further through the wares, pondering which one would fit him best, he spared a glance to check on you. 

He spotted you a few stalls away at the fruit stand you had mentioned. The vendor you were talking to gesticulated wildly while presenting his wares, leading you to laugh.

Astarion frowned and put the dagger away to take a closer look.

The vendor was young, an elf with blond curls, and Astarion noticed that he wasn’t an unpleasant sight. 

He was immediately bothered by the smile you gave the other man, the way he touched your hands as he started to offer you bite-sized pieces of fruit to taste.

His fingers lingered too long against yours for Astarion’s liking.

As he continued to watch you from afar, something inside his belly started to seethe – hot and ugly.

A feeling he experienced before when it came to you, but couldn't quite grasp.

Well, whatever this was, Astarion certainly wasn’t jealous. Not of some random street vendor at least – and why should he be? Because you had smiled so sweetly at him? Or because you were laughing again as you took another piece of fruit from his filthy hands? 

What in the nine hells could be so entertaining about buying fruit anyway? 

It was ridiculous, really, and yet Astarion imagined how it would feel to rip the vendor's throat as punishment for daring to touch you. 

Would he bleed out quickly? Would he scream?

Astarion shook his head, shoving the violent image aside.

He remembered the previous occasions when that unpleasant burning inside his stomach had appeared. It was the moment Gale decided it was appropriate to show you his so-called magical weave, or the other day when Wyll proposed a dance to you. You had kindly rejected both of them, but Astarion was still not particularly impressed by their interest in you. 

He knew what others would seek from you. Why they wanted you. For the same reasons he enjoyed being with you: your compassion, the kindness you spread. Your special talent to make him feel seen. 

There was also your wit, the way you would crack a joke even in the most maddening situations, making him feel light. And not to mention, you were a beautiful vision if Astarion had ever seen one.

Of course there would be others who saw those qualities as well, aiming to claim you.

A sudden wave of anxiety flooded his mind, moulding an appaling image in his skull.

He wondered if one day you would prefer someone else over him.

Someone who would match your kindness – acting all selfless and heroic, indulging in activities he found little pleasure in.

Providing you with something Astarion might be unable to give you, ever, no matter how much he cared about you.

Hells, what if you were already seeking someone like that?

His stomach dropped.

The dreadful notion spread its relentless claws past his ribs, tearing holes in his dead heart.

Blood rushed to his ears.

Before he even realised, his feet were already dragging him towards you.

He needed to be close to you – doing anything to make this feeling stop.

When he arrived next to you, he placed a hand on the small of your back and grasped your tunic, a little tighter than he'd intended.

He tried his best to keep his composure.

“Are we all done here, my love?” he asked, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh, Astarion!” You smiled when you noticed him, unaware of his musings. Your pouch was filled to the brink with fresh fruits. “Yes, I guess that would be all.”

Astarion felt the need to pull you away, but before he came up with an excuse to leave immediately, the merchant was already addressing you again. 

“Think about it, will you?” A smug grin plastered that man’s face as he spoke to you, casually bending over his counter.

Astarion gave you a confused look.

Think about what? 

“Unfortunately there’s no time to join the tavern tonight, but thank you for the offer. Maybe next time,” you said amicably and packed up your wares.

What was that? 

Astarion thought he must have misheard.

“What a shame. Perhaps you can give it a second thought.” The vendor was still beaming at you, before he turned to Astarion. “Your friend can come too, of course.”

“Oh, that sounds splendid. We will think about it, will we, darling?”

Astarion bit his tongue, swallowing the impulse to spit a cutting remark on top of his obvious sarcasm.

What in the nine hells was this mongrel thinking, inviting you to the tavern? And how he was speaking to him – as if he was some irrelevant bystander.

“Let's see what we can do,” you said politely, already on your way to move on. “Have a nice day. And thank you again.”

“You as well,” replied the salesman and waved. 

Astarion gritted his teeth as he followed you through the busy alleyways, still processing what just happened.

The vendor's words appeared in his mind.

That man had obviously desired to fuck you, and wasn’t even trying to hide his advances.

How could he have dared.

Astarion regretted that he had acted so passive in that moment. Usually he wasn’t one to hesitate, always a sharp comment dancing on his tongue, and yet… the thought of losing you to someone else had shifted something in him, turning him small.

His fury grew.

Oh, how he would love to grab that despicable pig by his throat, banishing that filthy grin of his face. Making him bleed. But he knew that unlike him, you would gladly refrain from a public bloodbath, so he shoved away those violent fantasies, even if the fire continued to seeth in him – unpleasant and hot.

He tried to fathom what posed the worst about this whole ordeal: The way in which the man had aimed to claim you, or his fear that you enjoyed those cheap advances – possibly were fond of it even.

Astarion's mood couldn't have been more sour as you arrived at a secluded area, away from the markets bustling.

“Can you believe it? That seller insisted on giving me a discount,” you broke the silence and pointed proudly at the wares you had gathered. “And they say there are no kind people left in Baldur's Gate.”

And just as the words had left your throat, Astarion finally snapped.

“Is that so?” he hissed, baring his fangs. “How generous. What a nice, handsome gentleman he is, also inviting you to the tavern with him.” He spoke harsh – his tone cold and venomous. 

You came to an abrupt stop, resting the groceries on the ground and fixating your gaze on his, a furrow between your eyebrows. 

“What are you implying?” You sounded puzzled.

“Oh, don't act so naive, darling, you know what I'm implying. That man wanted to bed you, everyone could see it from the way he treated you. And by the laughs you offered him, you seemed to enjoy his attention as well, did you not? What a flirt you are.”

His accusations left a taste of ash in his mouth. Moments before his anger seemed directed at the man’s advances, and now his bottled-up wrath was boiling onto you.

The bewildered look on your face turned into something else, something sad, your eyes losing their shine. He sensed that he must’ve hurt you, and it tugged at his heartstrings.

“So, you’re jealous of that man, is that what this is about?”

“Me? Being jealous of some filthy street vendor?” Astarion scoffed, immediately falling back to his dramatics, gesticulating defensively with his hands. “Don't insult me, darling. I find it amusing that he thinks he can have you, and I didn’t fail to miss your interest in him,” he bit, almost choking on the dry chuckle that spilled from his lips.

“There was no interest from my side, other than purchasing some of his wares,” you explained. Then you opened your mouth again, sharply sucking air between your teeth, before your gaze softened. Your voice was calm, without spite or anger. “He recognized me, Astarion. From the article in the gazette. Slayer of the evil Ketheric Thorm and all that fuss. Does that ring a bell?” 

Of course he remembered. It was him that had to sneak past those giant steel watchers back at the gazette’s building, convincing the magical press to print an article in your favour. An article that wouldn’t taint your reputation, unlike the one Gortash had commissioned to derogate you. 

Astarion couldn’t deny that after the praising piece was published, you were indeed met with an unusual kindness from the people of Baldur's Gate. 

“Well, how could I forget?” Astarion's face twisted. “But that doesn't mean he didn't have something else in mind with you. Some people certainly would love to bury their blade inside a true hero for once, I can imagine.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Even if he did want to bed me, what does it matter?”

An icy grip twisted Astarion's chest. The image of you with someone else stung in his eyes, making him sick. 

Before he could growl another reply, you rested your hand on his arm, catching his fuming. “Hey – look at me, you silly goose.” 

Your tender touch was enough to quell the blazing flame in his belly. 

You spoke so warmly to him. So... loving.

Astarion rested his eyes on you and was met with an affectionate smile that disarmed him completely.

“Astarion, don’t you realise that I couldn't care less if thousands of people felt the sudden need to bed me?”

He bit his cheek, remaining silent.

“You’re the only one I want, you jealous fool. No one else – not now, not ever, and certainly not some random street vendor that throws a discount at me because he thinks of me as some kind of hero.”

Astarion’s features involuntarily softened as he took in your words. The fury that was about to overwhelm him dissolved into a flutter, engulfing his chest, washing away the seething that hooked at his ribcage.

“Really?” Only one word left his mouth, before he cleared his throat. “I mean – I'm not surprised of course, as you seem to literally cling to my side these days.” A poor attempt to cover his insecurity, but the best he could muster.

“Really,” you assured and gently tapped on his temple, “I vow on the tadpole flooding inside our brains.” You chuckled as you rested your hands on the back of his neck and shifted closer to him. 

“Well, but those might be gone someday,” Astarion mumbled.

“And even then, I will remain at your side. Only if you want me to, of course.”

Astarion didn’t have to think of his answer, the words spilling from his lips like a reflex.

“Yes, I would want that,” he whispered sincerely, his flamboyant mask crumbling. “Look, it's not that I don't trust you. It’s just… Well, I guess I'm used to losing what I hold dear. And the thought of losing you to someone else… I don’t know, apparently it woke something in me.” 

He felt almost ashamed over his sudden lack of eloquence, being so raw with you, but there was a sense of relief in opening up. To his surprise, it was even more soothing than losing himself in violence.

You looked at him with affection and cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin. He closed his eyes and sunk against your palm. 

“It's alright, Astarion, you don't have to explain. I promise you, you won’t lose me to someone else. As you said, I tend to cling to your side these days, and truth be told, I have no intention to stop.”

“I hope you won’t,” Astarion replied and took your hand in his to press a kiss to your fingertips. “But honestly, I have to apologise for doubting your intentions with me. With us.”

“I forgive you, lover,” you replied tenderly. “I didn't take you for the overly jealous type, though,” you added with a smirk.

Astarion offered you a wry smile. “Let's not dwell on it, shall we?”

Then he reached for your face, softly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger and rested his lips on your forehead, followed by a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him into a close embrace. He could sense your heartbeat against his cold body, your pulse drumming in a comforting rhythm.

For a moment you were just holding each other, your head against his chest, Astarion relishing your warmth and kissing your hair. Your touch was relieving. Assuring.

You were with him, and had promised not to leave. 

Your affirmations repeated in his mind: You wanted him. Only him alone.

This was all new territory and Astarion sensed it would take some time for him to fully adjust, yes, but right now… this was all he could wish for.

“Somehow I don't want to let go of you, little love,” he hummed to your ear.

“Then don't,” you breathed and kissed along his neck, brushing his bite marks with your lips, sending a shiver down his spine. A particularly sensible spot, but you were allowed to touch him there.

Gods, how deeply he had fallen for you.

Astarion drew you even closer and sighed, your hands grasping the fabric of his shirt. 

When he gently peeled away from your hug, you looked up to him and bit your lip.

“Can I be completely honest with you?” you asked sheepishly.

“What is it, my sweet?”

“Well... I think that merchant truly wanted to bed me.”

Astarion laughed – deep, coming from his belly – surprised by his own lightness. The idea of fuming over your obvious admirer seemed almost ridiculous all of a sudden. 

“I told you so. But now that you see it too, I guess you wouldn't mind if we turn back for a quick chat? I would love to take care of that dear fellow,” he replied mischievously. While his fury was gone, he still wouldn’t mind some misdemeanour.

“Astarion!” you scolded, but joined his laughter. “Please spare that innocent man.”

“Relax darling, I will. For now at least. And only because you asked so nicely.” His fangs poked from the grin that adorned his lips.

“Good boy,” you teased and brushed one of his white curls behind his ear, his grin widening from your touch.

As you walked back to camp, hands softly entwined, Astarion noticed that probably for the first time in his life someone truly belonged to him – willingly, out of love.

You belonged to him. 

The thought grew in his chest, wandered up to his eyes, spreading affection through his entire body, and for the remaining way back to camp he didn’t let go of your hand.

Masterlist

[astarionxhappiness]

Summary: Astarion gets badly injured in a fight, and you have to take care of him while waiting to be found.

Word count: 5,781

Warnings: Astarion being hurt.

It was just another fight.

That was what you thought, at least.

Just another day of danger and adventure.

Never for a second when you woke up that morning did you think you and your companions would be scrambling for your lives.

"Head for the cave!" You heard Shadowheart scream to you over the sounds of the exploding fireballs.

Smoke filled the air thickly, making it hard to see. The thick smoke filled your lungs, making it hard to breath.

Your eyes darted around, trying to find the location she spoke of.

You tensed as a large hand wrapped around your bicep, making you nearly drop your weapon as you were yanked to the left.

Your gaze snapped in the direction of the newcomer, relief washing over you when you laid eyes on Astarion, though he did not seem to share this feeling.

"Things are getting far messier than I care for. I'd say it is time we leave, darling."

He kept a firm grip on your arm, pulling you through the smoke that filled your lungs painfully.

You yelped as you were both suddenly thrown forward by a violent explosion landing not two feet directly behind you, sending both of you flying forward.

The vampire managed to turn himself to land on his shoulder instead of his face, though thanks to the grip on your arm, it made it far more difficult for you to land with similar grace, instead falling direction on top of him causing him to grunt in pain.

"Has anyone ever told you that you weigh far to much to be throwing yourself on people, darling?" He questioned rhetorically, winded from the impact.

"Well next time let's try it with you catching me without my weapons and armor, hm?" You retorted, making him smile.

"Well, so long as you're offering," He replied with a sly smile.

You couldn't help letting out a breathy laugh despite the adrenaline coursing through you, smacking his arm before moving to get off of him.

You yelped when a bolt of lightning suddenly struck right beside the two of you.

You moved instinctively to shield the vampire with your body, looking down at him questioningly as the dirt settled, as though scared something had passed through you to hurt him instead.

He was already looking up at you, seeming taken aback by this show of care, still not used to such acts of love and loyalty.

Neither of you were able to dwell in the moment, though, certain that the next mage would likely not miss.

You yanked him to his feet, grabbing his hand and starting at a blind sprint, squinting through the thick black smoke.

You did not bother looking back for the others as you reached the edge of the smoke cloud, listening to the sounds of battle still going strong in the distance.

"In here," You commanded when you spotted a small hole in the rocks up ahead that you could squeeze into.

His hand still in yours, you took off running.

You were close. so close-

A cry of pain coming from your left was the first indication of something being wrong.

Your head turned, the scene playing out in slow motion before your very eyes as you watched with horror as an arrow slid through Astarion's back, the tip of it shoving violently through the front of his shirt.

Your scream sounded distant to your own ears as you quickly turned to grab him just as he started to fall, his eyes giving away the shock of being impaled.

"Shadowheart!" You screeched, struggling to keep him on his feet.

Now he was heavy.

"No- no nononono-" You felt your stomach in your throat, your heart pounding as you watched blood leaking from the elf's mouth.

"Astarion, don't you dare faint on me! " You cried, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, adrenaline driving you, giving you the strength to practically carry him to the nook that promised you both safety.

You slipped between the narrow walls of stone, panting as you carefully sat him down.

"Star, hey, look at me," You pleaded as his eyes seemed unable to focus.

"I don't. . I don't feel well, love" he murmured distractedly, sounding dazed.

"Hey, hey--look at me! It's not that bad. It's not even that bad. Just breathe," You ordered through tears that started to well in your eyes, your dirty hands coming to cup his equally messy face as you pressed your forehead to his.

"Just focus, okay? You're gonna be okay. I have some healing potions, and Shadowheart is gonna find us" Despite your assurances, you couldn't stop the sob that left you, desperately petting his face before moving off to grab the potion. "Drink, okay? Just drink." You put the rim to his lips, a hand under his chin to help him drink, using your other hand to help tilt his head back.

"Do you remember when we first met?" He murmured distractedly when he finished, his head falling back against the rock behind him.

"Yeah," You whispered. "Of course I do." You went to looking at the arrow, whimpering as you listened to him cough, a small bit of blood and liquid from the potion coming up.

"You were so unsuspecting. . I never told you this, but I always felt bad for trying to kill you. . " You looked up at him, sniffling as you leaned forward to press your face against the side of his.

"No, no don't feel bad. You aren't supposed to feel bad. You're supposed to b-be unremorseful, and cocky and-" You cut off when your throat constricted too tightly for you to speak. "Please," You whispered, letting out a soft, helpless sob. "You're gonna be okay. I don't want you to be embarrassed telling me this when you're better because you are gonna be better." You grabbed another healing potion, though you knew it was futile. The arrow he had been hit with had a poison on it. And unless you could get him a healer, no amount of the potions or magic you could offer him would fix it.

he let out a soft laugh, grimacing in pain, brows furrowing.

"I won' be embarrassed," He replied dizzily. "I want you to know that. . That I care about you, okay?" he took in a deep breath, letting out a slight laugh before whimpering in pain.

The sound shattered your heart.

He brought his hand up to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb tenderly against your soft skin, wiping away a tear.

You grabbed at his wrist with both hands, bloodying it in the process due to having been trying to mess with the wound to help it stop bleeding so much.

"I love you," You whispered. "You aren't allowed to leave me, do you understand? I won't let you. I'm gonna figure this out. We're gonna get you help." You could still hear the sounds of commotion outside, making your stomach churn.

The others could still be out there. In need of help, or dead. .

You pushed this thought away, knowing it would do nothing good to think about.

There was nothing you could do right now. You had no way to know where they were, and running back into the fight would only put yourself in danger, and possibly cause complications for the others.

You simply needed to have faith that they had made it to the cave Shadowheart had seen. Or, better yet, were heading this way now. .

"Star?" You whispered when his eyes started to lull shut.

"Astarion?" No response.

"Hey! Astarion, stay with me!" You grabbed at his shoulders as his hand slipped off your cheek, panic washing over you as you shook his upper half, careful not to cause more damage to his body as you did so.

You cursed, grabbing the knife you had from your boot and quickly cutting a line over the vein in your wrist before pressing it to his mouth, praying to god that it would give him enough strength to last a bit longer while you waited for help.

"Astarion, please wake up," You whispered desperately. "Please. . I need you."

It was a terrifying fifteen seconds before his eyes came open, having managed to get enough of the liquid down.

"Oh, thank god," You cried, keeping your wrist to his mouth, which he awkwardly adjusted around with a soft grunt

His eyes fell shut as he groaned, absently sucking, feeling far better with the strength it offered him.

"We need to get this arrow out of you," You said, looking down at it. "I'm going to need to break off the tip, and pull the sides out before I can give you the last potion. It should help with the bleeding at least."

He nodded dizzily, unable to respond verbally as he kept his mouth against your wrist.

"I'm sorry, but I am going to need both hands for this," You infromed him regreatfully, pulling away when you felt he had had enough to keep him conscious for the time being.

"Gods- Could you not have woken me up after you pulled the arrow out?" He complained as he felt you cutting into the end of the arrow sticking out of the front of his torso.

"No!" you replied heatedly. "Because I can't handle thinking I am going to lose you, and that means you are going to need to stay conscious, do you understand??" You looked up at him with what looked to be anger, but he recognized it to be pure and utter terror.

He couldn't help smiling. A truly unseemly sight due to the blood smeared over his lips, chin and teeth. Not to mention the greying notes of his skin as the poison started to take over.

Still, he was your unseemly sight. And you would do anything for the elf. Even if that meant whipping a miracle magically out of nowhere to save his sorry ass.

"Gods!" He cried out as he felt a sudden pressure on the wound when you managed to break off the arrowhead, careful not to touch it as you chucked it to the other side of the small nook.

"I know," You whispered. Pained.

"I am not entirely sure you actually do, darling," He retorted breathlessly. "I don't see an arrow sticking out of your rib cage!"

"It isn't in your ribcage, dear" You replied, pressing a rag to the wound, causing him to hiss.

" . . Regardless," He went on dizzily. "My point remains. ."

You looked up at him, frowning as you watched him try to keep his eyes focused.

You knew the blood wouldn't hold him for long. He was more lucid, but you could see the first signs of him already starting to slip away again.

"Just focus," You whispered.

"I am gonna have to lay you on your stomach. This is going ot hurt, I'm so, so sorry, Star." You took in a shaky breath, willing yourself to be strong for him. Doing your best to argue and keep him engaged.

"Wasn't I already?" He asked in confusion, making your heart sink,

"No, " You replied, bringing your hand to cup his cheek. "No, you're sitting up right now. . But I need you to lay down on your stomach. Just let me guide you, alright? Do you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you" he retorted, feeling your hands come up to help him maneuver carefully onto the ground.

He grunted, face smushing into the dirt.

"What sort of question even is that, darling?" He continued on, your heart twisting.

"A silly question," You murmured, moving over to sit on the backs of his legs, knowing he was probably going to try and flail when you did this.

"I need you to stay as still as you can for me, okay, Star?" he simply nodded in response, letting out a soft, dizzy groan.

You grasped the arrow carefully with both hands, surprised when you found it to be slippery with blood, only then realizing you had never staunched the bleeding from your wrist.

You grabbed a cloth quickly to offer a better grip, taking a deep breath before slowly and carefully starting to remove the long length of wood from his flesh, listening with a sickened displeasure to the mewls of pain that left his lips, his body writhing beneath you as he fought to try and make the pain stop.

"I'm sorry," You cried, throat tight. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry- It's gonna be over in just a second, I promise- I'm so sorry-" You took in a shaky breath as your resolve to stay strong was crumbling listening to the tortured sounds leave him in an unfiltered stream.

"Please," He gasped, the plea desperate and weak.

"Please make it stop-" He cried out as the last inch of the arrow slipped suddenly from his back, the resistance it had been offering you having suddenly stopped, making you go faster than you had intended.

"Okay okayokay, it's done, it's gone," You whimpered, bending down and peppering loving kisses to his shoulder as he panted in pain beneath you.

"You're okay," You went on, moving off of him and grabbing another rag quickly to press it to the wound, making him grunt.

"It's okay. . Hey, let me help you sit up, okay? You need the other healing potion." You quickly wiped away the tears blurring your eyes, replacing it with a thin layer of blood instead.

He offered you his hand to take, allowing you to help him sit up before he promptly fell backwards against the rocks, groaning as he did so.

"This is no fun," He deduced, breath heavy and shallow.

You shook your head miserably.

"Not in the fucking slightest," You stated, moving to press into his side as you gave him the last potion.

"This is the last one," You whispered. "But you can feed on me, to keep up your strength, okay?" You flinched as a firebolt struck right in front of the opening to your hide away, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I think I'd just like to sleep actually, if tha's alright with you, darling" He murmured, finding himself completely exhuasted.

"No- Hey, no you have to stay awake- Astarion!" You gave his shoulder a stressful shake, making him open his eyes again.

"Come on. Drink" You held up the potion to his lips, helping him swallow it back.

It managed to heal his wounds enough that he would not die from them. But it did little good against the poison working its way through his veins.

he coughed as he choked on some of the liquid, bringing a hand up to wipe off his lips, bloodying it in the process.

"Good," You breathed, pressing your forehead against his shoulder in relief when you felt his stomach stop bleeding.

"Just feed, okay? The others will find us. I'm sure of it." You shut your eyes as you brought your still bleeding wrist up for him, feeling his fangs sink in to the skin tiredly, though he did manage to still find the strength to bring a hand up to hold the back of yours, keeping your wrist in place as he gently sucked, swallowing the crimson liquid gratefully.

You hid the grimace of pain against his shoulder, willing to suffer far greater if it meant your sweet vampire being okay.

Though after a time, you were beginning to feel quite light headed.

Astarion had gotten quite good the past few months with learning to control his feeding so as not to hurt you, but with the poison affecting his thoughts, and making him barely conscious, he was right back to being absent-minded with it.

You didn't care at the moment. If he needed it, you would provide.

You would offer every last drop of your being if it meant buying him enough time for someone to find him and help.

You felt tears absently leaking down your face as you stayed curled up against him, your free arm wrapped around his back, holding him weakly so his side was pressing against your chest.

"I love you," You whispered, praying to any and all gods that might have been listening, willing to spare him.

You shut your eyes tightly as twin tears dripped down your cheeks.

You hesitated when you felt his grip on your hand loosen, and he let your hand fall from his lips.

You looked up at him, sniffling.

You were relieved to find that he had not stopped due to losing consciousness, but rather of his own volition.

"I . . I love you too, you know," He murmured hesitantly, never having actually been brave enough to say the words back.

You sniffled again, cupping his cheek dizzily as you brought your head up to press against the side of his hair, eyes shutting tightly as you let out a quiet sob, leaving a long, tender smooch to the side of his head after a moment.

"I know," You whispered. "That is why I know you're gonna be strong, and fight through this." you put a hand over the wound, sniffling once more as you tried to control your tears.

He smiled slightly as he looked down at you, his eyes unable to focus properly as he did so, seeing blurry doubles.

"Is it cold in here?" He asked absently, feeling a bit chilly.

You frowned.

Though it was perhaps cooler than it was outside, it certainly was not a temperature that should have bothered the elf under normal circumstances.

You put the back of your hand to his dirty forehead, stomach twisting as your fears were confirmed.

"You're getting a fever, I think," You informed him. "Most likely from the poison. ."

"We can't start a fire, I'm sorry." If the poor ventilation wasn't a problem, the attention that the light of the fire could draw most certainly would be.

"That's well," He assured. "I can just use you as a blanket instead, my sweet." He smiled at you somewhat cheekily, making you bite your lip.

"Happily," You replied, shutting your eyes when he leaned down to press his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

You laid him down carefully, watching him shiver unpleasantly due to the cold ground.

"Let me take off you shirt, okay?" You said, moving your hands down to work on getting his dirty, blood soaked armor off.

"As much as I love pleasing you, my love, I don't think I am in the shape for such activities at the moment," He replied breathlessly.

"Gods- It is to share body head, Astarion!" You objected, running a hand worriedly through the front of his hair to brush it off his brow.

"Hmm. . Sure," He replied with a sideways smile, eyes lulling shut.

You ignored him, working quickly to get his upper half exposed. You used rags to quickly cover the wounds with to keep out dirt before doing the same to your own clothing, the thin fabric covering your breasts the only thing between you two as you laid down and pressed your body against his.

You pulled the pile of clothing over the two of you for insolation, feeling him shiver as he wrapped his arms around you, coughing absently as he did so, his throat feeling a little flemmy.

You wrapped your arms around him, cradling his head against your shoulder as you laid halfway on top of him, acting as a human blanket as best you could.

You cursed yourself for having dropped your scrolls during the fight. You had had one or two that would have been rather handy to help keep him comfortable while you waited on the others.

You made him feed every hour or so. The second you started to feel that you wouldn't pass out if he drank, you let him.

His fever developed into something quite unpleasant as the hours passed, his shivering now constant, his coughing coming every minute or so as his body tried to fight off the invasion.

It should have killed him by now. By all rights, the vampire spawn should have been a full corpse in your arms as night fell. And yet, he was still with you. Fighting and struggling to remain conscious.

Though not without a great many complaints and a good stream of whining.

Still, you did not care. You would listen to him complain and whine the rest of your life, and be grateful for it so long as it meant he was still with you.

"The others will find us," You assured for the thirteenth time in the past ten minutes, the fever making him quite absent-minded.

"But how do you know?" He asked in concern for the eleventh time also in the past ten minutes.

"Because I do. I have faith." He huffed at this.

"faith. . Like Shadowheart has faith in her dark mistress? Or Wyll has faith we will actually free him from his contract?" You gave him a look.

"I don't put my faith in gods, or higher powers, Astarion. I put my faith in my friends. my family." you pulled closer to him as he sighed.

"You always were soft, darling," He lamented. "And I may very well die for it."

He grunted when you smacked his arm.

"The only way you are going to die is if I kill you, now shut up and be comforted." You pressed your body against him tighter, cradling his head protectively.

he smiled absently, chuckling as he allowed himself to press closer to you in return, feeling the comfort.

You were maybe optimistic and youthful in your faith in people, but you were certainly forceful and hard headed as well.

He whimpered as a particularly bad chill ran through him, eyes shutting as he tried to focus on your warmth.

You frowned softly to yourself.

He was burning up.

Well, for him, at least. For someone who was alive, it would have felt more like being a little overheated rather than feverish.

"I've got you," You cooed, running your fingers through his hair damp soothingly.

"Just focus on my voice, okay? We are going to get through this. And when we do, I'll take you to a nice tavern, hm? With a warm room and a soft bed. . And we can just lay there as long as we like, and enjoy ourselves, and drink fine wine. . " You listened as he took in a deep breath, relaxing as he allowed himself to latch on the to comforting fantasy.

"That sounds rather nice, darling," He murmured sleepily, another deep inhale coming and going before he coughed softly to clear his throat.

You kissed his temple lingeringly as you continued to smooth his hair back with your hand, listening for any signs of fighting or, hopefully, the sounds of a rescue.

Neither arrived however as you listened.

You swallowed heavily as you brought your hand up for him again, feeling your arm shake with the effort it took to hold it up to him.

You knew that your body was not making enough blood to replenish the stock he was taking, but you didn't care. you had to make it work.

You shut your eyes as you felt his fangs graze over the wounds he had already created the past few hours, though you looked at him questioningly when he grunted, shaking his head as he softly pushed your hand away.

"Star you need to feed," You said with a frown, looking down at him worriedly, unsure if it wasn't enough anymore to keep him going.

"No," He breathed, shaking his head, eyes remaining shut. "No. . I can feel your hand shaking. You sound weak. . I won't take anymore from you. . I will be okay without it for now, love." He turned to face you, coughing softly.

You stared at him silently, unsure what to do with that.

You felt you stomach twisting with love for him.

Even in a state of certain death, he didn't want to hurt you. . And yet, you needed him to, if it meant ensuring he would be okay. .

"I will be alright," You murmured reassuringly, shifting down tiredly to come face to face with him. "I promise. Don't worry about me right now, okay? I've got it." You brushed your nose over his. "I've got you."

He opened his eyes just a crack to look at you.

You were almost as pale as he was, and the weakness pushing you towards sleep was difficult to miss.

He shook his head softly, clearing his throat once more.

"No . . I will be fine," He replied, pressing his forehead against yours softly.

you sighed, knowing it would do little good to argue with him about it. Neither of you had the energy for it anyhow.

"Alright. . In a few minutes then, okay?"

"An hour," He compromised, though you frowned.

"Fine. . An hour." It would be the shortest damn hour that man ever experienced.

Ten minutes passed, and you nudged him again.

"Its time," You murmured. "You need to feed." You offered him your wrist, eyes shut.

"That was an hour?" He questioned in groggy confusion, shivering softly against you.

"Mhm, whole hour," You replied, with a tired nod.

"Hm. . " He did not offer anything more, finding himself unable to muster the strength to feed again.

He was getting less and less each time, and as the poison spread through him, it was becoming less effective as it grew stronger inside of him.

"Star, you need to feed," You murmured after a long silence, struggling to stay awake yourself.

"Star. . ?" You forced your eyes open when you realized his shivering had stilled.

Your heart stopped, your entire body going cold as you looked up at his unmoving form.

You brought a hand up to put two fingers under his nose to check for breathing.

"Oh, god," You whispered with horror.

"Astarion, love, wake up," You pleaded, sitting up dizzily and trying to force more blood down his throat.

It wasn't enough though, and you knew it.

Your heart was racing, making you feel like you were going to pass out.

There was only one thing you could think to do at this point.

You were out of time waiting. If he was to die anyway, then you were more than willing to risk going with him if it meant he had even a slim chance of getting help before it was too late.

You got up on shaky feet, stumbling with your hand guiding you against the rocks as you made your way for the exit of the alcove, mustering all the energy you had left inside of you to channel it all into your chest, your breathing picking up as your started to feeling it go into your shoulders and down your arms, tingling your hands with such power that it felt like it was going to consume your very essence.

The energy shot from you fingertips high into the sky as the words to cast the spell left you lips in a scream that released every ounce of your fear and desperation. The bolt of yellow energy tore through you, stealing every drop of energy you had left to offer.

It was, in a word, glorious.

People would have been able to see it for miles, the sound cracking like thunder, the force of it shaking the ground beneath your very feet.

A beacon that with any luck would offer a way for the rest of your party to find you.

You never even felt your body hit the ground, laying crumpled in a heap just outside the rocks where your beloved remained barely holding on to the last threads of life in him. .

Your eyes opened blearily, looking around you in a daze.

The first thing you recognized was the feeling of something warm curled against you, and the familiar scent that accompanied it.

You looked over, heart skipping a beat when you found your white haired elf snuggling against your side, passed out, but a normal, healthy temperature and complexation.

You felt your breath hitch as tears welled in your eyes with relief.

"There she is," You heard Wyll's voice from the entrance of the doorway.

You looked over, wiping the water from your eyes as you gave him a smile, letting out a breathy gasp.

"That was quite the scare you two gave us," He said as he moved over, sitting down by your bedside.

"We found you with mere seconds to spare," Another voice added, and Gale appeared to lean in the doorway with a smile.

A scoff followed, and you couldn't help smiling more as Shadowheart appeared.

"Hardly," She corrected. "Ignore Gale's exaggerations, Tav." She gave the wizard a look, who merely returned it with a smile, his arms loosely crossed in a relaxed position over his chest.

"Allow for the dramatic every once in a while, will you? "Either way, you showed quite the surge of power back there," He went on, sounding proud. "I shudder to think what you'd be capable of if you ever agreed to study under my teachings." You smiled a little more, letting out a breathy laugh.

"Perhaps after things settle down a little," You replied fondly.

Shadowheart moved to kneel beside the bed next to where Wyll sat.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, looking concerned.

"Tired," Was the honest response, "But I'll be fine." Though you cared little about your own state.

You looked over to Astarion. Wyll read the questions of worry immediately, and took your hand reassuringly.

"He will be just fine," He promised. "There is no need to worry about him. He is back to his normal self, more or less. He fought three separate nurses to lay in bed with you. Though perhaps now that you are awake, you might convince him to bathe and allow for his own treatment of care."

You bit your lip, looking over at the warlock and nodding, taking in a deep breath as you lovingly squeezed his hand.

"He does smell a bit, doesn't he," You whispered emotionally, letting out a quiet laugh as Shadowheart joined in.

"I suppose even vampires need a bath now and again to remain fresh," She replied playfully.

You laughed again, sounding on the verge of tears.

"Thank you," You said, looking between the three of them, throat tight.

"I don't know what I would do without all of you." You sniffled as they quickly moved in on you, crowding you for a suffocating hug, getting Astarion in the process as well.

"Can't a vampire get some bloody rest with his beloved anymore?" The grouchy creature objected as the action of their affections woke him from his much needed nap.

They retracted their affections quickly, allowing Astarion to see that your eyes were finally open, your body moving. .

"Come, I suspect these two are going to want a moment to themselves," Gale commented with a smile when Astarion's expression changed when he found you to be conscious.

You gave the three a farewell, looking back to Astarion who was already staring at you as though you had been brought back from the dead.

You did not even get the chance to speak before two cool hands cupped your face, and his lips smashed against yours in an emotional, adoring kiss.

You shut your eyes dizzily, winded from the sudden passion.

Your hands came up to mimic the hold he had you in, running your thumb tenderly against his sharp cheekbone, your stomach twisting with relief and joy.

You gasped when he finally allowed you air once more, your hands remaining on one another's face, staring silently into each others eyes for a time.

"I thought I'd lost you," He whispered, sounding choked. "Don't you dare think about doing that to me again," He added with angry vehemence, kissing you again before you could speak.

"You are one to talk," You retorted when you were finally allowed to do so, grabbing his waist and pushing him from on top of you to instead lay facing one another.

"You- God, Astarion, I thought I had lost you!" You felt your throat tighten, pressing your forehead against his as you shut your eyes tightly, a leg slipping to rest between his.

"That is apparently something I'm completely incapable of handling. So you are just- You are going to have to avoid doing anything like that ever again, do you understand?- No, forget that- You are never leaving our camp again!- No, never mind- I'm making Gale make a bubble for you, and you will just live in that bubble, safe for the rest of your life!-" You cut off to the sound of his laughing, the sound making your heart swell.

"Stop laughing at me, I am dead serious!" You said, doing your best to stay forceful despite his laugh being utterly contagious.

it was positively turning your insides to mush.

"Very well, darling," He said, smiling as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. "But only if you agree to live in this bubble of yours with me." You smiled, bringing your fingertips to run over the side of his face tenderly.

"Deal," You murmured, soothed by his tender touch and calm voice.

He sighed softly, leaning forward to kiss you gently before pulling away again.

"But honestly, darling, if you ever sleep for two days straight after creating what the others described as 'the most powerful burst of energy they have ever seen in their lives' ever again, you will be answering to my wrath. Are we clear?" You grinned as he pulled you closer.

"We're clear," You murmured fondly, looking up at him with doe eyes.

"Good," He murmured, putting a hand on the side of your head as he left a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, your eyes shutting with blissful relief.

"Now, what do you say to a bath?" You questioned, putting a hand on his chest. "The others are complaining about your . . intoxicating scent." You grinned as you spoke.

"Hmm. . Five more minutes," He decided, pulling you ever closer and shutting his eyes.

You took in a deep breath, more than content with this decision, happy to lay with him longer than a mere five minutes should he decide he desired longer. . .

A/N Thank you my lovies for reading! If you have interest in being notified when I put out a new fic, shoot me a message and I will tag you as I put them out. :)

[oops-all-concrete]

Okay, you lovelies voted for fluff, so you're getting fluff! Welcome to:

BG3 companions react to: Tav drawing the companions in their sketch book! (Romance implied)

Beware spoilers and cuteness ahead, please enjoy!

Lae'zel -

Eventually she gets irritated of being stared at, while Tav is sat pencil in book and puts down her sword from being sharpened, and paces over. "Chk. You've been ogling at me like a child for at least ten minutes. Is it with purpose or are you simply bad at keeping to yourself?" She asks, head tilted with wide eyed threat. Once she gets a glance at the page, she softens, jaw unclenching, shoulders dropping. She admires the sketch before she realises she too, is staring. "Hmm. Acceptable. Continue" Before she returns to her tent, and totally doesn't stay stiller on purpose.

Shadowheart -

Shadowheart doesn't suspect a thing, until she passes by them and totally doesn't take a glance in the journal from over Tavs shoulder. She pauses and appreciates the work long enough for Tav to realise they're being watched. "Oh don't mind me. I'm just appreciating my good side from your point of view." She smiles. "Oh, we should draw each other! I haven't sketched in so long, but I'd like for you to see what I see too." She offers, going and grabbing her own sketch set, sitting beside Tav, comfortably drawing them.

Wyll -

He allows Tav their privacy, even if they stare sometimes. He needs to be physically shown because he is too polite to snoop or look over their shoulder. Upon being shown, he smiles, but winces a little. "Oh, I love it, don't get me wrong. You've captured the Blade of Frontiers in all his glory...just, all his glory with horns and the devil's details" He chuckles, trying not to seem dissappointed. But upon another look, his eyes become wider with wonder. "...you know what, if thats what I look like to you, it's not as bad as I thought." He smiles.

Karlach -

She's nosy, okay? So when Tav puts down their book to help Gale with dinner, she sneaks a little peek, grabbing the pages with a clean cloth. She however, gives herself away immediately. "WOAH??" The whole camp turns but Karlach does not take notice. "SOLDIER?? YOU DREW THIS?? THIS IS AMAZING!" She yells, eyes bright, brows up, grin wide with teeth. The camp settles while dinner happens, but later in the evening, she pulls Tav aside to show them something. Upon a large empty plot of just dirt, Tav finds their face messily drawn with a stick into the dirt. "Can't quite draw right now, or ever really, but I wanted you to have a portrait too. Not bad, eh?"

Gale -

"Oh, and who's that handsome fellow?" He smirks, catching sight of the page one day. He asks for a better look and takes a moment to admire the sketch, before frowning. "Did you...draw me with gray hairs? Am I graying??" He asks, a hand combing through his so well maintained mane. "You didn't know?" Astarion weighs in, finding an opportunity to bully the wizard. "For a human, you are at that age, are you not, Gale?" Lae'zel adds. The wizard makes an almost theatric gasp, crossing his arms. "Gray suits you Gale!" Karlach insists, taking the drawing from Gale and admiring it. Gale pauses, looks again, and grins. "Now that you mention it..."

Astarion -

"Okay, so, that's clearly not any of the imbeciles over there, what handsome young men have you been seeing without me?" He jokes. It takes a minute, but the way Tav looks between Astarion and the book, gives it away. "...oh. That's me?" He seems to entirely lose his ability to speak. He gestures to take the book and have a better look, running his hand over the sketches, and then over his face, seeming almost confused. When prompted, he clears his throat. "Well, it's- ah, certainly flattering. Nice to have such a flattering mirror" He smiles, slipping back into his more confident persona. "In fact, I'd love to keep such a flattering masterpiece, if that would be quite alright with you?" He smiles confidently, but the way his eyes stray to the sketch tells all.

Bonus! The older generation

Halsin -

"I cannot recall the last time I have received a portrait in such likeness." He smiles fondly when Tav shows him the piece. "Might I take this back to the Grove? I'm particularly fond of anything you do really- but especially this" He asks, warm smile spread over his face. Should Tav allow it, he gives the best hug in thanks, promising to return the flattery in kind. (Yes, it will be whittling)

Jaheira -

Of course she gets a look while Tav is distracted. "Not bad. Better that bard songs, that's for sure" She smiles, nodding at the adventurer. She takes a second look and thinks for a moment. "...When did my face get so wrinkly?" She asks in a vaguely dissapointed wonder.

Minsc -

"Oh, my friend, you have a talent of flattery!" He claps and grins when he sees the work, but seems to be looking for something. "Oh- Erm, might I ask a question...where is Boo? You cannot have the great Minsc without his tiny, fluffy brain on his shoulder!" He asks, proudly producing the hamster in hand. Tav turns the page to reveal quite a few sketches of Boo. "What?? Did Boo pose for these?? How is he so accurately cute?? BOO, YOU LOOK ADORABLE! WHY DID NOBODY TELL MINSC IT WAS PORTRAIT DAY??"

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you'd like to read next. I have another poll coming soon as well 👀

[meanbossart]

Pin!

Hi, I'm RJ (Male, 27 years old) I'm a -usually- horror oriented artist and collaborator alongside my partner and better-half @barbatusart, though I'm currently on a Baldur's Gate 3/DnD streak with both my art and writing, specifically centered around the Dark Urge I created for my campaign and his antics, so that's most of what you will find here!

I want to leave a warning right here that I occasionally venture into delicate topics in regards to character lore and history - though none of it strays too far from what the game already delves into and I try to give a heads-up ahead of time whenever I feel like something might catch someone off-guard otherwise.

PATREON WHERE I POST WIPS, SKETCHES, UNRELEASED ART, ALL OF MY NSFW CONTENT, ETC : patreon.com/meanbossart/

BLUESKY WHERE I PUT UP FULL VERSIONS OF *SOME* OF THE NSFW THAT I CAN'T POST HERE: bsky.app/profile/meanbossart.bsky.social

TWITCH WHERE I STREAM SOMETIMES: twitch.tv/meanboss14

PSA: I get a lot of asks and I'm slow to go through them, please don't take it personally :U

Anyway, here's the guy of the hour:

🚨FAQ BELOW🚨

Q: Does your Durge have a name? A: Nope! I named him "drow" when I played the game because I didn't feel like thinking up anything special. His lack of a name has become part of the character's lore and you will find him to always be tagged with "DU drow", or referred to as The Drow or just Drow.

Q: Where can I read your BG3 fan-fiction? And what is it about? A: Right here! The main plot follows DU Drow, Astarion, and Shadowheart on a new adventure that fractures into a couple of different directions, but mainly focuses on the aftermath of the spawn that Astarion has released and the personal development of the main cast, alongside a number of original characters that get involved in the narrative. My goal was to create a kind of "DLC" experience, so you can expect a lot of themes that parallel the main game.

Q: Can I draw one of your characters, a scene from your story, or any of your characters interacting with mine/other characters? And can it be NSFW in nature? A: YOU ABSOLUTELY CAN, AND I'LL BE DELIGHTED TO SEE IT IF YOU CARE TO SHARE. I'm equally fine with NSFW as long as everyone involved (in the art and otherwise) is an adult.

Q: What drawing software/tablet/brushes do you use? A: I draw on a Wacom Cintiq 22, using Clip Studio Pro. I switch around brushes quite often but most of what I use comes from the DAUB super-bundle by Paolo Limoncelli.

Q: Where can I find more of your work? A: You can find mine and my partner's comics here, but please bear in mind that most of it is highly violent stuff and you should read the content warnings on the store page carefully before making any purchases - if in doubt of whether or not any of it could be detrimental to your mental health, DON'T BUY IT. Stay safe!

Q: Do you take commissions? A: I am not currently taking any new commission inquiries, sorry!

[leighsartworks216]

You Hate Me

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Sooooo I wrote this one morning when even just laying down had my knees hurting and I was like,, well what if Tav had that too? Also inspired by the fact I get to campus an hour early and still try to rush to the (empty) classroom instead of, ya know, taking advantage of the huge time buffer I give myself

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of joint pain, insecurity, crying, possibly OOC, clown mention

Word Count: 1,545

Masterlist

AO3

Just a bit further. A little further and then you could rest. If you make it to that tree - make it to that tree and you can sit down. Just a bit left to go.

It started almost a week ago. Unable to cope with all the traveling, your right knee started bothering you. With every step you could feel your kneecap shifting back and forth with a dull click. Then, it started to hurt. Nothing serious. If you walked slow enough, you could avoid it. But now every step sent shocks of pain up your entire leg. Your left knee joined the party this morning, removing any sense of relief you had while walking. Even sitting down didn't remove the pain, but you couldn't afford a day off.

Your companions noticed the changes, despite your best effort not to show any outward discomfort. You moved slower, the occasional grimace slipped through, they weren't traveling quite as far. You consider asking Shadowheart for anything that could ease the pain, but you already knew there was little she could do to help. So you grit your teeth and kept going.

Your foot stepped on uneven ground and you nearly dropped from the agony that shot through your whole body. Karlach worried you might actually just collapse. But you kept going.

Astarion couldn't bear it. None of them could - they hated seeing their intrepid leader fight their own body just to go a few more feet - but your struggle settled like a boulder in his stomach. Every time your face scrunched up, every hiss of your sharp inhales, felt like someone had stabbed a knife in his chest and was twisting it ever deeper. He hated the feeling.

With only a few long strides, he slipped from the back of the group to the front, walking alongside you. He had to change his normal gait just so he didn't surpass you. "Darling," he hummed quietly, just loud enough to keep the conversation between you two, "you should rest."

You shook your head. You didn't even spare him a glance. Your eyes didn't shift from the tree. "We're almost there," you dismiss. It's slightly breathless. Despite needing to walk slow to avoid the pain, you were pushing to go faster.

He tsked. "And how far do we still have left to go?" He tilted his head as he looked at you, already knowing whatever distance you said would be too far.

You nodded to a tree dead ahead. "Once we reach that birch, we can rest."

"That birch?" He pointed. "The birch tree that's nearly half a mile away?"

He could feel you bristle with his incredulous tone, but you didn't say anything.

He scoffed. "My dear, I can be stubborn at the best of times, but this is ridiculous! You're barely staying upright as it is."

"I'm fine-"

"No, you're not," he sharply cuts you off. He grabs your arm and pulls you to a stop, holding you there with enough force that you wouldn't slip out and keep going. You refuse to look at him even now. "You're wincing, your hands have been clenched for the last mile, and you keep stumbling. The tree will still be there if you just sit down for a minute."

The rest of the party watches from a distance. Far enough away they can just make out what Astarion's saying, especially as his voice rises in pitch the more frustrated he gets.

Standing still hurts. It's hard to say if it hurts more or less than walking; it just hurts. Your face is pinched as sharp jolts run up through your joints, like someone is poking you with a sewing needle. Walking, you decide, must be better than this.

"It's not that far," you insist, voice low. "And when we get there, we can-"

"Gods above, you're impossible! Fine. Fine! You want to get to that tree, fine." He lets go of your arm.

Before you can even take a step, he's sweeping you into his arms, supporting you with one arm under your back and the other hooked under your knees. The pressure hurts for a moment, but it quickly fades away. The lingering aches are from pushing yourself too hard. He begins marching once more toward your end goal.

You want to shout, to demand he put you down. But when you look up at his face, his eyes are sharper than usual, lips pulled into a tight frown and crease forming between his eyebrows. He's angry.

He's angry with you.

The words die in your throat. You hate being so dependent. You were the leader - you needed to be strong and fearless and without weakness. To receive help feels like someone plunging their hand between your ribs and stealing away a chunk of your worth. But seeing Astarion upset, upset with you, that stings far worse.

You avoid looking over his shoulder. You could just imagine their faces. How Lae'zel would scowl at you for being weak. How Gale's face would turn somber when he realizes you're not as capable as he thought. You couldn't bear it. So you press your forehead to Astarion's neck and stare at your lap.

There's an unwelcome burn at the back of your eyes. Shame floods your chest and crawls up your throat until it chokes you. Water pools along your lower lids and blurs your vision. You can't walk and now you're going to cry. Just how fucking pathetic can you be?

Astarion's head shifts and you can tell he's trying to look down at you. He's trying to see your face. Because he can feel you shaking in his arms. He can hear your lungs quivering as your breaths become uneven and choppy. You press your closed eyes against his throat and he can feel the hot tears against his skin.

His frown softens, though you can't see it. He slows down to a stop and tells the others to go on ahead, to the birch tree just there, and start working on setting up camp, but all you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears. Their faces become fraught with worry; Karlach is the last to go. She still looks back once or twice. Astarion finds a suitable rock and he sits.

"Shh, sweet thing," he cooes, voice no louder than a whisper. His arm around your back pulls you into his shoulder, hand tangling in your hair as he cradles you. His other hand rubs soothing circles along your thigh. You gasp around a sob, body curling further into itself, into him, as you release your emotions. "It's alright."

You strangle out an apology. It's wet and croaky and painful.

"Whatever for?" he asks.

"You're mad at me," you whimper.

He huffs. The frustration from before rises in him again just thinking about it. "Yes, I am."

He feels your breath catch in your throat, and the heaving breath you take after. "You hate me."

Astarion laughs, short and sharp. "Why would I hate you, dear? Because you're too stubborn for your own good?" You don't have a response for him. He kisses your head, wherever he can reach. "I'm mad because you put yourself out trying to solve all of our issues, but the moment you have one of your own, you refuse any help. You're going to tear yourself apart."

He sighs and rests his cheek atop your head. His fingers rub the nape of your neck, gently tugging at the hair there. You carry so much tension, it's a wonder your muscles haven't locked up from the stress.

Time passes slowly in his arms. It seems to take forever before you start to calm down, and even longer before your eyes have dried. He does nothing to speed the process aside from gently hush you when you try to choke out apologies.

You sniffle quietly. Your eyes are raw, and you're all too aware of the stain of water you've left on the vampire's neck. When you speak, it's a painful creak in your vocal chords. "You don't hate me?"

He presses another kiss to your head. "No, love, I don't hate you. Not unless you've done something truly horrific, like invite a clown to show up at camp in the middle of the night." You chuckle weakly. It's such sweet music. "Gods forbid you start donating to charity." You laugh this time, and Astarion's chuckle vibrates against your ear.

His fingers detangle themselves from your hair with one last gentle tug, and his arm wraps around your back once more. As though you weigh no more than one of his pillows, he stands once more with you in his safe grasp, and begins heading for camp. He can see Karlach up ahead light up when she sees you're finally on your way.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I just feel so... useless, like this."

"Please, stop apologizing," he begs, dramatically. "Just say 'thank you' and we can move on."

You peel your face from his skin, dried tears sticking you together. You wince at how disgusting this must be for him. You lean up and kiss his cheek. He smiles at the affection. "Thank you."

Softer, he says, "Of course, my love."

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Helpless in Her Hold

//The Drow twins' proposition of Tav surfaces some insecurities for Astaron. Hurt/Comfort, angst but happy ending. CW: Unhealthy relationship to sex/sexuality, identity issues. Not edited... Song Rec: Supposed to Be (Acoustic) By Icon for Hire//

Astarion x f!Tav, Canonish, Act 3

2.1k

Astarion watched, helpless, with his dead heart in his throat as the drow twins propositioned Tav. His Tav. He want to growl it and glower until no one else in this pleasure den deigned to offer their services.

Why did she have to be such a lure for elven whores?

Astarion leaned back against the wall, hardly resisting the urge to fold his arms and sulk in plain view of the whole party. He wasn’t a child whose toy was being played with—and yet, the brightness of her eyes and the laugh on her lips had him wanting to pout and whinge like a toddler.

“I appreciate the offer, I do, but I must decline.” Tav shook her head. Though personally the vampire thought she could be a little more rude in her rejection.

Because the damn twins were were still giving her looks that were far too inviting. Not that Tav saw, because her eyes had landed back on him, and Astarion was just thanking his lucky stars he’d perfected the mask he wore.

“Is that your partner?” The female drow asked, her smile making disgust creep up his spine—it was easy to see where this was going. “We’d be happy to have you both.”

“My dear, I’m afraid you’d be the one parting with your gold.” A high laugh slipped from Astarion’s lips. “And, I do doubt you could afford me.”

He saw the twins’ mirrored expressions of bewilderment turn to glee for only a flash before Tav was excusing herself from them. Swiftly stepping over to him with—that damnable look on her face.

Oh he knew those eyes, so drawn with her concern and on the verge of pity. Tav looked like that when she was about to do something so dreadfully kind it might make him wretch.

And he could not be the broken toy when she was being offered two shiny new ones.

“Astarion—” Tav began in that tone, and he had to preempt her.

“I know pet, tempting as it is, I simply must decline.”

“Yeah?” Tav utterly confounded him with that lifted smile. “That’s good.”

“Good..?” Astarion asked, his mind trying to race ahead. Find the traps and disarm them before they sprung.

She’d preached to him over and over again about his choice, and what he wanted and how that mattered to her for some reason.

Only for him to make a decision about the drow for her.

Shit.

It was a test. It had to be. She respected his choices, now he was expected to reciprocate.

“Ah I see.” Astarion inclined his head to her, a salacious smile on his lips. “You haven’t had much attention lately…it has been a while for us.”

Tav blinked, and then those bright eyes were on his, searching him out. The pale elf would cling to the façade by the skin of his fangs, if it meant he could keep her.

She turned, and Astarion prepared for the feeling of a stake through his heart.

“Well, if my partner isn’t interested, neither am I.” Tav brushed off the twins’ advances with as much grace as one could muster. Until they finally had the tact to move to other potential patrons.

She was already leading the way out of Sharess’ Caress before Astarion had recovered from his shock.

The cold night air near Baulder’s Gate finally woke him.

“You could have gone with them, you know.” He blurted, wondering why in the Hells she hadn’t. It wasn’t like he was satiating her hungers.

Astarion felt Tav shrug her shoulder through their linked hands. “I’m not interested in any little tryst if it’s at your expense.”

She said it so simple, so easy, as if it were hardly worth a second thought.

Astarion’s mind was still reeling, but he put on a smirk. “Stop being so kind to me; it almost makes me want to return the favor.” 

As if it were a debt he could ever repay her.

…

Hours later, Tav lay in her darkened room, sleep evading her. The soft click of a lock being picked made her tense, hand instinctively grasping the dagger beneath her pillow. But the familiar silhouette slipping through the door made her relax.

"Hello, my darling," Astarion purred as he approached, her darkvision letting her see how his ruby eyes glinted. “Haven’t you gotten accustom to me creeping into your bed?”

"It has been a moment since you came looking for a cuddle?" Tav teased softly, tilting her head. His appearance at this hour had her wondering. The dark of night and hushed voices already strummed tension in the air between them.

“I do seek…something akin to that.”

Astarion perched on the edge of the bed, long fingers skimming up her bare arm and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Despite all her thoughts trying to tame her reaction, for now.

"I merely wished to express my gratitude, my sweet. For standing by me, even knowing what I am. What I've done. And what I haven’t."

“What you…haven’t?” Her half-awake mind might be jumping to conclusions, surely. Twining their fingers together, Tav brought his hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. "You never have to thank me for that."

Astarion's eyes shimmered suspiciously in the darkness before he blinked it away, his trademark smirk back in place. "I want to thank you," he purred, “Won’t you, let me?”

He moved then, pressing her back into the soft pillow she’d been having trouble sleeping on after so many nights spent in the dirt.

Though the familiar weight of him was already making the bed more appealing. Now, just like every time he fed from her, he cradled her skull and tilted her head back so tenderly. It was comforting, it was an intimate moment she was happy to share with him.

His eyes didn’t meet hers as he ducked his head. Usually he lingered, to make sure Tav was alright before his fangs pierced her flesh. So why did she feel lips caressing her neck?

Her fingers slid into his hair, trying to get a grip on herself as much as she was on his curls.

“Star, what’s going on?”

The chuckle he gave was at the base of her neck, lips and tongue teasing at her collarbones in a way that made her skin tingle.

“Returning the favor.” He purred. “You deserve it.”

Tav swallowed under his clever mouth, trying to hear what her mind was screaming at her before it could be drowned out by the sweet words and sweeter lips.

Suddenly his face was swimming before hers, still not letting her catch his eye as he cupped her cheek. “So very few people get what they deserve—you, as always, should be the exception.”

Astation, with his ethereal beauty and perfect words, had her stunned. It wasn’t until he lowered his mouth to hers that her mind caught up.

“I don’t deserve anything you don’t wish to give.” Tav managed against his mouth, giving a gentle tug to his hair to get him to pull back.

“My sweet…I very much wish to give.”

That silver tongue slipped right past her protesting lips.

…

The elf was certain he had her when those hands slipped from his hair to cup his face in her palms. Her thumbs stroked over his high cheekbones.

“Astarion, wait.” Tav breathed.

He stilled, pulling back, fear flickering over his features as he was sure he’d somehow hurt her—when he saw it.

That damnable look in her eyes.

“Wait—we’ve done nothing but the waiting.” He snapped.

And Tav, damn her, gave a softer look still. “I’m willing to wait longer, as long as it takes.”

Astarion's posture stiffened, his back becoming an iron rod as he sat upright. "Is that how you see me then?" He couldn't keep the defensive edge from seeping into his voice. Drawing it like a blade when he felt his throat was bared.

"All shattered on the inside? Some broken doll you no longer play with? Am I to be put on a shelf and never touched again?"

“Astarion, you aren’t—” She moved to touch him, but he rose abruptly, evading her reach.

He didn’t even know why he did it. But the way her hand fell back to the bed, dejected, hurt him just as the pain he saw on her face.

"I know you aren’t fragile," Tav said with conviction, eyes pleading for him to understand.

“Then what? Am I some charity case to you? Is that what you get off on?”

Astarion hated it the moment he said it. But, the fangs showed whenever vulnerability crept up on him.

She stayed silent, and he had to fill that void before it consumed him.

“I’m not some delicate boy with a broken heart. I have wants. And I can see that you have them too. So, why not?”

“Is that what you want?” Tav smothered his outrage like a blanket over a campfire.

His shoulders sagged under the weight of his uncertainty.

“I don’t know.” The words barely escaped his lips before they broke apart into whispers of self-doubt. “Gods, I don’t know how to do any of this.” A frustrated hand raked through his white curls.

He wanted her. He wanted to see her looks of want and he wanted to be the one to fulfill her desires.

He wanted to keep her.

She sat up, legs hanging off the bed. And his eyes were drawn to the bare skin of her thighs exposed by her loose sleep clothes.

“Astarion, what do you want?”

He stared down at her, red eyes probing for a hint of the right answer. What did she want him to say? He would say it.

But Tav held without giving an inch.

“Why do you always ask the most difficult things?”

"I’m sorry." she whispered back.

"Don’t. I want—no, I need to know that I am still wanted by you." The confession fell from his lips like a plea. "You who’ve given me so much and seen broken I am. You who’ve made me wonder if I do indeed have any pieces left of my own soul…” The words were on his tongue, but his throat constricted around baring his neck one last time. “Do you still want me?”

“I will always want you.” Tav’s reply came without hesitation or doubt.

Either he had gotten to sloppy to see it—or there was simply no guile in her.

Tav reached out, her hand finding his where he stood frozen. He could feel the tension coursing through him—an all too familiar vulnerability that he constantly tried to suppress.

“Then let me give you something in return.” He dropped to his knees before her, desperation etched into every feature. .“Please, Tav.”

She lifted the hand she held, cupping it in both of hers, before she pressed his touch against her chest. And he had a moment to hope, that maybe, she would just let him give a fraction of what she’d given him.

“You’ve given me everything already, my heart.”

A scornful snort burst from him, everything in him prepared to banish her romanticized drivel with a dose of reality.

“This,” Her fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt over his chest. “Past the petty armor you wear. Beneath the pretty face and clever tongue,” She yanked him close before he could quip back.“That is what you give me; parts of you that you’ve given to no one else.”

When he looked at her then, he had no idea what she might see, even if he could use a mirror.

“Your kindness, your hurt, your wants. The truth of you. That’s what I want.”

“I can’t give—“ Astarion couldn’t get this damn silver tongue of his around a his words. “I don’t know what that is…who I am.”

“Then we can both find out. That’s all I ask of you.”

He swallowed hard as her words left him parched and speechless. The notion that he might still have something to offer, a piece of himself that was untouched.

Astarion found himself staring at her, wonder and disbelief battling for dominance in his gaze.

A gentleness tugged at Tav's lips. And for a fleeting moment, Astarion dared to believe that perhaps he could have this.

He moved up, but only to wrap his arms around her. To engulf her in his embrace. Just as that night when she wrapped her arms around him, and first showed him that there was affection, there was closeness, without the expectation of more.

Astarion would be just fine if he was helpless in her arms.

[nyrandrea]

Everything's Fine

As you try to deal with everything that has been thrown at you so early into your journey: forced leadership, mindflayer tadpoles and taking on everybody's personal problems, it all just gets a bit too much for you.

(Takes place during Act 1)

Word Count - 3.5k

Also available to read here on AO3!

Enjoy!

xxx

You felt your patience starting to wear incredibly thin when you realised Astarion had been staring at you for over five minutes now. 

Not directly, he would never be so conspicuous—at least, not intentionally— but you kept catching those fleeting glances he was throwing your way; the corners of his red eyes crinkling every so often before returning to whatever book he was pretending to read. It wasn’t one of those charming, smouldering gazes he would sometimes give you after a night of feeding, asking if you were alright, knowing full-well that your answer was a resounding ‘I’m fine’, and that you would provide for him again soon. 

No, what he was doing right now—very carefully—was scanning you, studying you,  judging you. It was as if he was trying to leer right through to your very soul. 

You almost had half a mind to stomp over to his tent and demand what his problem was, but there were other unfortunate issues to contend with. 

Namely Shadowheart and Lae'zel. 

“I already told you that the artefact is my responsibility,” Shadowheart said, her aloof demeanour and confident tone betrayed by the hand hovering over the hilt of her dagger. “This way it will protect us all, I thought we had already established that!” 

“We have established nothing,” Lae’zel hissed back. “We only agreed not to slit each other’s throats in the night, though...,” she grimaced. “I still have no reason to trust that you will not try again.” 

“At least there’s still some sense in that bullish head of yours.” 

“Tsk!” Lae’zel spat at Shadowheart’s feet, much to the latter’s disgust as she recoiled back. “However, the matter still stands that the relic you hold onto belongs to my people. Therefore, it should be in my possession!” 

The cleric sneered. “I would sooner slit my own throat.” 

“Then go right ahead. Nobody will stop you.” 

Rubbing at your temples to try and ease the incoming migraine that, for once, was not caused by the mindflayer parasite living rent-free in your head, you decided to step in-between the two women, not really caring about risking a gutting from their trigger-happy blades. 

“C’mon, we’re not seriously having this fight again?” You huff incredulously, the question already sounding stupid as soon as it left your mouth. Because of course they were having this fight again. They had it yesterday, and the day before that, and they were probably going to have it tomorrow as well. 

“We are, as it happens,” Shadowheart replied, her eyes flickering briefly to you before narrowing forward again. “Because this savage bitch won’t leave me alone!” 

Lae’zel bared her teeth in a cruel grin. “Better to be that than a revrykal of Shar.” 

At the mention of her Goddess’s name, Shadowheart practically lunged herself towards Lae’zel with an enraged scream, her dagger raised high with the intention of plunging it straight into the githyanki’s chest, who in turn raised her shield to protect herself. In that moment, you were nothing to them but a speck of dust in the wind. 

It wasn’t until your hand shot up in a blind panic when Shadowheart realised what she was doing, forcing her to suddenly pull back to avoid injuring you, only a moment too late as her knife slashed the palm of your hand. Blood sprayed across the ground as your short but pained cry echoed throughout the camp. 

“Oh Gods...” Shadowheart muttered as everyone was suddenly on their feet and crowded around the three of you in a matter of moments. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t... mean to...!” 

“What? Attempt to kill our leader in cold blood?” Lae’zel muttered as she took your trembling hand to examine it, you only stared ahead as the shock took a moment to wear off. You didn’t even register her uncharacteristically gentle touch as she turned your palm up. “Only a flesh wound, you will live.” 

“Still,” Astarion piped up from behind. “Perhaps it would be best to get that dressed up lest you attract any...*ahem* unsavoury visitors.” 

“It would seem we already have,” Lae’zel replied, to which the vampire put a hand up to his chest in mock offence. 

“Lae’zel, you depreciate me,” he pouted. “I’m hurt.” 

Astarion’s sudden cold grasp on your wrist startled you as he decided to examine the cut himself in a much less gentle manner than Lae’zel. “Not that I would be able to get much from this anyway, even if I tried.” 

You were slightly worried that he was pondering the idea the longer he stared at the wound; you could practically see him drooling. It wasn’t until you cleared your throat that he snapped out of his daze. 

“Well, we should probably get this cleaned up anyhow,” he finally said. “To avoid infection and whatnot.” 

“...You’re not gonna lick it clean, are you?” Karlach asked with a grimace. 

“Of course not!” Astarion bit back, much more flustered this time. “I’m not some savage beast, you know.” 

“That’s... debatable,” Gale piped in. 

“Well! It’s lovely to know that you all think so little of me; the feeling is very much mutual,” Astarion said with a fake smile before taking you by the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’ll have to nurse this poor wounded soul, as well as my pride.” 

He started guiding you away from the rest of the group, you only allowed him to because the whole situation had you in a bit of a daze, but not before Shadowheart tried to get in another “I’m... I’m sorry.” 

“It’s... I’m fine,” you replied with whatever level of composure you could muster up with a smile in a small attempt to reassure her before allowing yourself to be led towards Astarion’s tent. Your words seemed to satisfy her as Shadowheart returned a sorrowful but grateful nod, though her expression turned sour when Karlach stepped between her and Lae’zel. 

“Alright now, ladies, what do you two say we let out our pent-up aggression towards each other in a healthier and less murder-y way, huh?” The tiefling suggested before holding up her finger to not let the other two get a word in edgewise. “And before you ask, I will not be taking no for an answer.” 

A small smile graced your lips at Karlach’s enthusiastic yet surprisingly pragmatic way of taking charge, and it seemed to be working as Shadowheart and—to your utter astonishment—Lae’zel agreed to whatever training regimen she had in store for them.  

‘Perhaps Karlach should take over as leader...’  

The idea was extinguished as soon as it had entered your mind, replaced with thoughts of the tiefling messing everything up, of her killing you in your sleep, that you shouldn’t trust her to lead your party. The only one who should have any authority over these subordinates is you. Only you are worthy. 

The voice quieted down after a few moments, leaving you only with a pounding head—just another one of the many wonderful side-effects of the parasite. 

You didn’t take any heed of whatever thoughts the tadpole forced upon you. You knew that Karlach would never hurt you, or any of the others for that matter—not by choice, anyway. However, those flashes of betrayal and blood were starting to wear you down a bit, especially with the lack of sleep; the very notion of it had been non-existent since you escaped the nautiloid and accepted the leadership that everyone had practically forced upon you. 

You weren’t exactly a natural-born leader; hell, you barely managed to keep yourself alive never mind a whole group of people. 

“That’s going to need stitches,” Astarion said as he observed your hand more closely now that the two of you were in the privacy of his tent. Heat flushed around your cheeks at how close the two of you were. Flashes of that night you had shared a bed—or well, the forest floor—came to mind, and you hated how flustered it made you. It was a one-night stand, a bit of fun to ease the stress of adventuring; clearly it meant nothing. At least... that was what you were made to feel. 

What had been a night of passion for you, had been the same old dance for him. 

“Take a seat there,” Astarion’s said, his voice cutting through your thoughts like a knife. “I should have a needle around here, somewhere.” 

“You know how to sew?” You asked, settling down on a cushioned stool. 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said, and a sting of guilt surged in your chest. “How do you think I’ve kept these clothes looking so good for over two hundred years? Certainly not by magic.” 

“Why not just buy new clothes?” 

Your prodding seemed to hit a nerve as he paused for a moment. 

“Why waste the coin?” He finally replied, sounding a little dejected. 

“Sorry,” you said, biting your lip as you tried to think of a way to quickly rectify your carelessness. “You do look great, by the way—y-your clothes, I mean,” embarrassment takes over as you trip over your own words. “The gold embroidery is um *cough * it’s nice.” 

Astarion seems amused at your inability to grasp basic English as he chuckles, the sound deep and almost musical. “Why thank you, darling. I’m glad someone around here appreciates the finer details.” 

The vampire kneels next to you and threads the needle before gesturing for you to hold out your hand. “It has been a while so... let’s just hope I’m not too rusty, hm?” 

Those words don’t instil a great deal of confidence within you, but you won’t allow it to show, trusting in him to get the job done. If you ended up getting sepsis, well... Withers was always on stand-by. 

“Now, hold still,” Astarion instructed. “This may sting a little.” 

You nodded, only wincing a little when he made the first stitch, the pain became more bearable as you watched him focus with the kind of laser-like precision that only came with a practiced hand; it made you wonder how many times he had done this. His methodical movements almost lulled you into a sort of relaxed trance, had your mind have not been working overtime, you honestly might have fallen asleep: Gods know you could have done with a bit of shut eye. 

Ever since the ship crashed, your problems just seemed to keep piling on top of each other: Lae’zel was hellbent on getting to that githyanki creche, and there was the matter of Karlach’s engine, Gale was close to blowing to kingdom-come if he didn’t get another magical item to consume soon, Astarion would probably need another feeding at some point, not to mention the dog, Scratch, and the owlbear cub who had started hanging around the camp. A dog was one thing but how much did owlbears need to eat?  

It was fine, you reassured yourself. Everything would be fine. 

“There we go,” Astarion said, relinquishing your hand back, freshly stitched and cleaned. The pain was still there, dull and throbbing, but it wasn’t anything a quick healing spell couldn’t fix. 

“Not my best work but it will just have to do for now,” he huffs, as if he was annoyed with himself. “You’ll have to excuse the sloppy stitching, it’s... been a while.” 

“It’s beautiful work,” you can’t help but admire the stitching; it was flawless. “Thank you, Astarion.” 

His gaze remains on you for a moment, as if he were expecting some sort of quip or punchline, and his eyes widen slightly when he realises you’re being genuine. 

“I... uh... you...?” He pauses and squints; still nothing. “You are... most certainly welcome.” 

You raise an eyebrow; did he really think so lowly of you that he believed you simply weren’t capable of a simple 'thank you'? Or was it himself that he had no confidence in? Your thoughts turn to when you asked him about how he came about becoming a vampire. Astarion kept most of his history closed off from you but told you just enough to let you know that this ‘Cazador’ fellow had treated him poorly. Belittled him. Enslaved him. 

You couldn’t begin to imagine how horrible it must have been; no wonder he didn’t trust anyone. 

A part of you wanted to pry into his thoughts, to let him know that you were here for him should he ever want to talk, but a new figure entered the tent, startling you into closing your mouth. 

“Hello!” Gale cheerily greeted with a smile, his eyes latching onto you immediately. “How are we feeling?” 

“Oh, we’re feeling quite dandy, thank you,” Astarion interjected with a frown. “You didn’t think to knock before deciding just to barge in?” 

“Well, given the materialistic structure of this very sound establishment, I think you’ll find it’s a little difficult to uh...” Gale trailed off, attempting to rap the tent flap to no avail. “...knock on.” 

“Then why not just knock on the wooden beams with that...” The vampire waved lazily towards Gale’s staff. “Very large stick of yours.” 

“Duly noted, but I think we’re getting a bit off track here,” the wizard said before turning to you. “I need a word.” 

You were taken aback slightly by his bluntness, and you couldn’t help but notice the almost pained way he was wringing his hands and how his eyebrows subtly twitched. He looked incredibly... uncomfortable. 

His hand hovered over his chest briefly, just above the mark that glowed whenever he consumed magic. 

Shit. Was it that time already? But hadn’t you given him something only yesterday? Or had it been a few days now? With recent events, it was hard to keep track of the time anymore; day and night just meshed into one big messy blur. 

Judging by your panicked look, Gale held up his hands in a placating manner. “Now, I know you’ve had a lot on your plate recently but this little uh... situation of mine is growing quite dire again so... if you could just relinquish whatever magical artefact you have, then all will be fine and dandy.” 

“I... don’t have anything on me at the moment.” 

Gale’s expression dropped. “Come now, you must have picked up something along the way, surely?” 

You grimaced. 

“In a dungeon? Along the road? What about that little goblin camp you rampaged through recently?” 

His sudden passive-aggressiveness made you feel uneasy. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Astarion cut in, folding his arms. “But we were a bit preoccupied with fighting for our lives to be on the lookout for any magic boots for you to chew on.” 

Gale chuckled dryly and drew the vampire a dirty look. “I don’t think you quite understand the gravity of what might very well happen if I don’t find something to contain the beast within me very soon- “ 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, darling.” 

“This isn’t a joking matter!” 

“Ugh! Just shut up!” You snapped. “I do get it, Gale. Because you remind me Every. Damn. Day. About this big, scary, mystery catastrophe that might happen without actually explaining anything about it! A bit of context would go a long way!” 

Gale’s hurt wince suddenly had your stomach churning in guilt; you shouldn’t be snapping at people; you were better than that. 

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologised. “As soon as we’re out on the road again, I’ll make it our priority to look for an artefact for you, alright? You have my word.” 

Astarion scowled and Gale forced a smile; his lips too strained for it to be genuine. It seemed like you couldn’t please anyone today. 

“That’s all I can ask for, and I promise... all will be revealed soon, otherwise the tadpoles will be the least of our worries.” 

When Gale left, you plopped down to the ground and took ragged breaths to calm your nerves, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt as you nestled your injured hand in your lap. Had Gale only checked in on you so he could ask you for a magic item in return? Was he really that desperate? He must have been, seeing as you had completely forgotten about his predicament. 

What kind of leader were you? 

“You know, you can’t go making promises all willy-nilly like that,” Astarion said. “We have enough problems as it is without having to worry about...” 

His chastising faded into white noise as you grasped your head, the sting of your fingers curling and tugging through unkempt hair was just enough to distract from the pounding that came from within your brain. The ability to focus was suddenly lost to you as your heart raced, and dark emotions swirled within your chest like a wild tornado; it was tempting to let them sweep you away, to ride the waves into the unknown. To be anywhere but here without anyone depending on you for so, so much.  

“Hello?” Astarion drawled. “Are you even listening to- Darling...?” 

He moved closer to you; his steps measured and deliberate as he lowered himself down next to you, still allowing you enough space while being close enough to reach out a hand to your trembling shoulder, his touch cold yet oddly comforting. 

“Hey,” he spoke in a soothing, soft tone, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with unwavering support. “I’m right here with you, you’re safe, just breathe along with me, alright?” 

You nodded, albeit shakily, and tried to mirror his calm, measured breaths, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, attempting to regain control over your racing heart. 

Astarion’s voice never wavered as your frantic gasps slowly started to synchronise with his calm breathing. “I know things are tough right now, but these feelings will soon pass. You’re stronger than you think, darling.” 

He continued to gently rub your back, tracing comforting circles with his fingertips, a rhythm that matched the cadence of your breath. Your hands slowly unlatched from your hair as you felt Astarion’s reassuring presence and honeyed words grounding you. 

“There we go, you’re regaining control,” he encouraged softly. “Now, I’m going to get you a glass of water, will you be alright for a moment?” 

You nodded again, and with a quick squeeze of your shoulder, he left. As your panic attack started to ebb, your breathing evened and your heart slowed as you felt yourself returning to the present moment, the tension that had your body rigid starting to ease. 

Astarion was back by your side within moments, gently pushing a glass into your hand and helping you lift it to your lips for a small sip of water, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat. 

“How do you feel?” 

“I’m-” 

“And don’t you dare say ‘I’m fine’,” he scowled. "Because we both know you’re clearly not.” 

You racked your brain to try and find a way to explain that you were okay and that this was just a small moment of weakness, a blip in the road, that there was nothing to worry about and you had it all figured out. 

But the words never came, instead you draw your knees up and hug them close to your chest as if to hide away from his piercing gaze. 

Astarion lingers by your side for a moment, his expression unreadable. 

“Would you like to stay in here for a while?” 

Unable to find the energy to speak, you simply nod. 

“Then come on, scooch over.” 

As you shuffle slightly to the side, Astarion sits down next to you, draping an arm over your shoulder and allowing you to settle your head into his side and cling to his shirt in a way that a child might cling to their mother. 

“...I’m sorry." 

From the corner of your eye, you could see Astarion’s expression soften as he waved a nonchalant hand. “Oh, you have nothing to be sorry for, dear. If anything, I should be the one apologising, who knew being in my mere presence would be so breathtaking?” 

You managed a small chuckle at that. 

“But in all seriousness,” he continued. “I know a thing or two about putting on a façade and... well...,” he paused. “Just... know that if you ever want to talk, I’m all pointy ears.” 

You hum in acknowledgement, though you can tell by his undertone that he’s being disingenuous, kindness wasn’t exactly his forte after all, but you appreciated the attempt all the same. But you were just content to sit in his arms for a while, and he seemed pleased enough with the silence. So, for now, you inhale the comforting aroma of bergamot, rosemary and brandy, letting yourself get lost in his comforting presence. 

And exhale. 

xxx

Hellooooo Baldur's Gate 3 has me in a chokehold and the brainrot is real. I'm only in Act 1 hence why this fic takes place so early in the game but this idea wouldn't leave me alone so here we are. Apologies for any inconsistencies :'3 Let me know what y'all think!

*Edit - since this has been pretty well received, I've opened up requests! Pop me an ask if you would like one :)

[bloodiedrogue]

FEAR OF LOSING IT (4)

SUMMARY: When it's discovered that Astarion's being hunted, you take matters into your own bloody hands.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 4,235

WARNINGS: Teasing, spoilers for BG3, canon typical violence, minor character death, pining if you squint a little, feelings realized!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 4 is here! Prompt is "you're not scared, are you? Of Me?" So hopefully I did it justice?

Also sidenote, to anyone wanting to be on the taglist. I had a few issues tagging some people but I still put your name. Not sure why it won't let me tag so check your settings and next fic I'll try again.

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

The sun beams down as you walk along the water’s edge, carefully stepping over damp rocks and foliage with narrowed eyes. As per usual, you and Astarion are trailing behind the rest of the pack —you because of the hangover you’ve been nursing all morning; him because he lives to irritate you. 

“I don’t understand how you feel so ill. You barely had more than a few drops of that ale.” 

Slightly in front of you, Astarion steps around a patch of suspicious-looking rocks, turning to grab your arm and guide you out of the way as you scrunch up your face in disgust. 

The air is way too hot to be touched. Beneath the fabric of your tunic, you can feel your skin grow increasingly sticky, prompting you to brush off Astarion's hand but reluctantly still follow with a groan. 

“I drank more at camp,” you confess, feeling a pain radiate inside your head. One that’s almost reminiscent of the tadpole, pulsing in angry motions that make you close your eyes and quietly wince. 

Picking up on your discomfort, Astarion slows his pace, opting to walk alongside you rather than ahead. “And why in gods name did you decide to do that?”

Immediately, you shrug your shoulders, offering him nothing despite knowing the reason. Last night at the party you embarrassingly drank to forget all those thoughts. The ones filled with visions of hands and mouths gliding across your wanting skin. 

Even now you hate to admit it, but after parting ways, you were still a bit riled up. A mixture of anger and annoyance coating your soul once you finally got situated inside your tent, knowing deep down there wasn’t much you could do. Gale had already returned to camp before you so you definitely couldn’t do the deed yourself without the possibility of further embarrassment, and you sure as hell weren’t going to wander back to Astarion with your hands between your thighs, begging for release.

In the end, the only other option was to get pissed drunk, so you did. And now, you were greatly suffering the consequences in the form of a whole day’s worth of walking under the beating sun alongside an overly stubborn and nosy vampire. 

“All by your lonesome?” 

Without even having to think, he looks at you with the kind of false pity that makes you want to drown him. To lace your fingers in his perfect locks so that you can better shove his face into the water, never to hear that damned voice again. 

Gods, is it ever tempting...

Rolling your eyes, you swear under your breath and shove him aside instead, feeling the edge of your elbow make contact with his chest before you attempt to step forward, feeling his hand pull you back. 

Overall, the motion is quick and painless —a twirling rush that sends you hurtling into his frame, boxing you in in the form of a hand that rests against your lower back— but regardless it still surprises you. 

“Was it because you wanted it?”

His hand lingers against your leathers as he awaits your answer. Barely putting enough weight to truly hold you back, it quickly becomes obvious that your current stance against him is of your own volition. A choice you’ve made during a moment of weak desire as you deeply inhale the dewy air. 

“Wanted what?”

“You know.” 

At this point, you’re positive he knows that you secretly like it when he touches you. When he physically guides you through difficult terrain or lets your fingers brush when trading trinkets after a day of looting. You’ve never made it known that you dislike it —never protested, even during times of tense discussion. All you’ve ever done is make faces of annoyance, hoping he’ll take the hint.

He never does. Not even now, as you press both of your palms against his chest, applying a bit of pressure as you stare him down, does he think to move. To let his hand fall to his side to let you continue your stride. Instead, all it does is remain perfectly still, resting against the small of your back, waiting. 

It makes you swallow hard as you take a step back, feeling the resistance of your hip as it brushes through his fingers.

“You’re really not going to admit it?” he asks then, watching you pause. Feeling you stop mid-step to cock your head and flash him a grin so utterly snobbish, that his facade of confidence finally slips. 

“What? That I want to fuck you?” 

Your voice is patronizing. A pointed tongue laced with poison gunning for his throat. You want him to taste his own medicine. To feel what it’s like to be on the receiving end of taunting words that fluster, so you don’t say much more. All you do is stare, waiting for him to break.

“No, that you want me to fuck you,” he corrects almost immediately, his courage returning ten-fold. Doubling down on the way your mouth slightly opens in annoyance, because even in your boldest of moments he still manages to throw you off.

It makes you want to drown yourself instead, realizing just how persuasive he can be. Without trying, it’s as if he’s perfected every potential conversation before it’s happened. In his mind, he can look at a face —hear the beginnings of their voice and already have the correct response at the ready.

“Do you spend all your time thinking of ways to seduce anyone that gives you the time of day?” As you speak, you fully step away, turning on your heel to let out a shaky breath you pray he doesn’t catch. 

“Only the attractive ones, I suppose.” He laughs and follows behind, his footsteps echoing through the water as you attempt to catch up with the rest of the group. 

“Attractive ones, huh?” You peer over your shoulder with a raised brow. “Is that a genuine compliment you’re offering or another one of your usual deceptions meant to butter me up?”

He doesn’t tell you. Instead, he just offers you a shrug and purses his lips, leaving you guessing —an expression that only tightens the tension that’s seemingly begun to grow.

Well, at least for you. 

Since the night you let him feed, even you have to admit that you’ve found it increasingly hard to resist his charms, remembering how good it felt to just let go for a couple of moments. How, when it happened, there was an inkling of freedom that you felt was found. A new sense of clarity that arrived just as your lifeblood left. 

As much as you’d deny it if asked, you think about it often. At night, when you’re lying in your tent trying to sleep, you frequently attempt to replicate that feeling, calling upon your tadpole to replay the memory of the cold, numbness deep inside your throat.

As you step out of the water onto a patch of grass, you wish you could feel it now instead of the hangover. Instead of the sweltering heat and Astarion's piercing gaze penetrating the back of your head, waiting for another response he’ll just counter. 

It’d certainly make the daily trek you’re experiencing all the more bearable. Being able to forget about the aching in your skull for just a moment would solve at least half of your problems, maybe even two-thirds of them depending on how Astarion proceeds to act. On whether or not he walks in silence or—

“Do you smell that?”

You release a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, feeling your impatience begin to build. “Smell what?”

He loudly sniffs beside you, his nose scrunching upwards dramatically before he turns his head, narrowing his eyes. “You’re telling me you don’t smell that?” 

“Smell w—“

  Before you even have time to react, it hits you. The foul stench of metallic burning through your mouth and nose, forcing you to cover your face with your hands.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” 

You nod, tightening the hold around your face as you continue forward, realizing you’ve somehow lost the rest of the group —something Astarion notices too, causing both of you to slightly panic.

“Oh, for fuck sakes, really? They couldn’t at least wait for us to finish our…”

As he trails off, waving his hand in the air to replace whatever words die in his throat, you catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar man up ahead, watching as the both of you continue.

“They’re probably over the hill,” you point out then, trying your best not to let the sudden nerves inside your chest get the better of you once you see the nameless man raise his hand, beckoning you closer.

“Who the bloody —do you know him?”

You look at Astarion as if he’s just said the stupidest thing known to man, still moving forward. “Ah yes, the mysterious man standing out in the open! Yes, I know him well, why?”

“Alright, no need to be cruel.” 

“Says you.”

Once again, his response fades to nothing. The argument slipping down his throat once the voice of the man calls out to you.

“Maybe he saw where the others went?”

Astarion scoffs. “Or maybe he’s the one who’s been setting up all those traps.”

“Traps?” 

You don’t remember seeing any traps. But then again, you’re not very perceptive when your head feels like it’s on the verge of splitting in half. 

“Yes, traps. The one’s I’ve been guiding you through like a fucking cattle dog!”

Letting your frustrations get the better of you shove him aside before you can think, turning to let both hands lay waste to his shoulder causing him to stumble sideways. As he does, he looks at you with hesitant curiosity; knitting his brows together while his mouth falls open into a half smile. 

An awkward laugh sounds through the pounding in your head as the footsteps draw near, prompting you to look ahead, noticing the man a few steps away, looking between the two of you. 

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” 

His words sound sincere —cautious in a way that has you peeling your gaze away from Astarion's wild expression to shake your head.

“No, sorry, just a, uh—“

“A lover’s quarrel,” Astarion finishes. “You know how it is.” 

Angrily you inhale, paying his obviously entertained face no mind as you continue to survey the man now in front of you, noticing the plainness of his clothes and the unkempt hair that circles his face like a halo. 

It’s apparent then that he’s been on the road for some time now. He’s not necessarily dirty looking but quickly you realize he’s the cause of the smell, making you swallow hard in an attempt to suppress the sickness that follows. 

“Ah yes, of course. My apologies.” He laughs —as does Astarion— while you just frown in between, trying not to blow another fuse. 

“I’m sorry but can we help you?” You crane your neck and smile sweetly, letting the more deceptive side of your mind take over, prompting Astarion to quickly clue in and do the same. 

“I was just speaking to your friends up there. They told me you were falling behind.” 

“And that’s your business because?” Raising your brow, you watch him falter for a moment.

“I’ve set some traps along the path. Nothing too hidden if you’ve got a keen eye like all of you, but still, I informed them of their whereabouts.”

Informed them of their whereabouts? Please. This man’s trapping skills are abysmal at best. 

You have to bite your lip once you hear Astarion's insult in the back of your mind, knowing he’s right. It’s one thing for him to notice the traps but for the rest of your party to as well? There’s no way they would’ve noticed if not for the lack of effort put into their placings.

“Well, uh, thank you. That’s decent of you.” You nod but make no effort to move. Instead, you just stand there motionless, staring him down, waiting for him to elaborate further so that you can better gauge this man’s intentions. 

You’re certain they’re anything but innocent. Given the smell wafting off his leathers and the way he keeps glancing over at Astarion with a slight twinkle in his eye makes your suspicion only grow. Your defensive walls rising to their highest point as you look at the vampire, allowing your tadpole to reach out. 

He’s up to something.

“Yes, well, I’m not hunting the likes of you so best avoid the unnecessary conflict and clean up.” The man’s gaze slowly turns to you, a hardened grin creeping through his features, causing you to twitch. 

There’s definitely something off. Something far more sinister underneath that polite expression and overly eager attempt at making small talk but you’re still not sure what it is. Or what it means when he offers you his help. 

“Fair point, but what are you hunting, may I ask?” 

“Something terrifying?” Astarion questions. “Perhaps a dragon or a kobold?”

What if it’s you?

Your partner’s eyes shoot to yours. Immediately, they fill with something you’ve never seen before. Bordering on fear, you’re quick to notice their unexpected vigilance. The building of a thought that drives his mind to something new. 

Suddenly in an instant, he’s overly alert, the movements of his shifting pupils making you wonder if maybe this is the man Astarion's been looking out for. That somewhere in his past he took advantage of the wrong person and they’ve been enacting their revenge ever since. Honestly, it’d make sense. Vampires aren’t the most well-liked of creatures, and although, aside from Astarion you’ve never experienced the company of one, it’s become increasingly obvious he’s a special case. A vampire that excels in all deceptive measures and tactics, preying heavily on whatever victims he can get his hands on. So, it wouldn’t be far off to think this man was hired to kill him. 

Making use of the tadpole again, you reach out silently, feeling no reluctance as the face of a man appears at the back of your mind, towering over you. Black as the night itself, he shrouds you in an ocean of thick shadows that conceal his face but not his presence, and because of this, there’s a panic that rises through your chest. Clutching your lungs with clawed fingertips that threaten to burst them like balloons. 

You force yourself not to look at Astarion as the memory continues —as an angry voice echoes through your ears telling you you’re his. That you belong to him and no one else and that if you so much as step a hair out of line he’ll hunt you down. 

Before you can even react the memory fades, leaving you there to piece together the man in the vision and the hunter standing before you, knowing they’re connected by a common enemy. Strung together by a tether of motivation that ties around Astarion's throat like a tightened noose. 

He’s not here to kill him but to take him away. To snatch him right under your noses by playing the unsuspecting hero. 

“As exciting as those options are, I'm actually on the lookout for a vampire spawn. His name is Astarion but I fear he’s already long gone.”

His confirmation is all you need to let your guard rise further up. Allowing your fingers to stretch against your sides, readying their need to reach for your weapon, you merely nod your head and let Astarion take the reins. 

“Oh, what a pity. It’s always like that for creatures to run away at the illest of moments, isn’t it?” He leans in with that same devilish grin, tossing aside all previous fears in favour of this newfound information. 

“Isn’t it,” the man parrots, shaking his head with a fake laugh. “Rather unfortunate considering I’m only trying to bring him home.” 

“Home?”

The word pours from your lips with such desperation that even the hunter questions your response. Raising his brow, he only slightly leans forward with interest, clicking his tongue as he glances between the two of you. “You wouldn’t happen to know this Astarion character, would you?” 

“I don’t think I’ve heard of him.” 

“Nope.” 

You sound like two opposing sides of a coin. Astarion, ever the charmer responds with subtly, the structure of his body remaining calm and collected while you remain a ball of nerves. A tightly wound set of muscle and bone too quick on the draw for your response to be deemed believable.

“He’s dangerous, you know. A wicked thing. Or, so I’ve heard.” He’s speaking solely to you but regardless Astarion continues to control the conversation, pulling it all back with a loud hum. 

“Wicked you say? Care to elaborate.”

There’s confusion for a moment. Then acceptance, prompting the man in front of you to explain. “While he’s nothing more than a vampiric spawn, he’s still got quite the head on his shoulders. Cunning, but nothing compared to a real vampire.” 

You know Astarion’s fuming beneath his facade then. Eagerly awaiting to rip this man apart, limb by bloody limb once the opportunity arises. You can feel his emotions through the tadpole —the way they pulse in angry waves, threatening to spill out at a moment’s notice. 

Almost instantly, it forces you to push him back. Closing your eyes for a second or two, you shift thoughts of comfort to his head, letting him know that you’re there. That if the moment comes where this hunter makes his move you’ll be ready to defend him.

Thankfully, it calms him down —steadies the rousing anger that you know is still there, lingering beneath the surface. Allowing him to take a few breaths, resetting himself for the inevitable. 

“I mean, I’m no expert but considering they’re still technically vampires I feel it’s safe to assume you’re still at the risk of… oh, I don’t know, injury? A good maiming perhaps if the spawn were to be particularly famished?” 

“You’re not wrong, I suppose. Spawns are particularly powerful compared to the average but considering the sun’s high and dry I’d say we have the advantage.” 

“Do we now?”

The two of you share a glance. Astarion's tadpole squirms in time with your own and in an instant a plot is formed.

“Actually, now that you mention it I have heard tell of this Astarion fellow,” you muse, watching the man’s expression. How it changes from innocent hero to hungry hunter at the drop of a hat. 

Next to you, Astarion nods his head, echoing your words.

“You don’t say?” 

“We were actually a part of a camp not far from here last night. A big group. So, it makes sense why the name didn’t come to me sooner.” You push out a fake laugh, acting as if the whole thing’s some silly little mistake while you wave a hand through the air. “Now that you’ve reminded me though, he was definitely there, lurking about like a little leech.” 

You wiggle your fingers for dramatics, earning a scoff inside your mind that has you forcing back a genuine laugh, sensing Astarion’s annoyance. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know what way he was going?” 

This time Astarion pipes up. “I remember him saying something but, honestly, my uh, memory is a big foggy.” 

As he raises a hand to his face, gripping the bridge of his nose, you motion the man to move close. “Perhaps a bit of coin could remind my uh, lover here of the information you seek.” 

Lover, huh? 

Paying no mind to his internal dialogue, you rub your fingers together to signify your partner’s needs, watching intently as the man leans back and looks at you with slight annoyance before taking a moment, realizing he’s got nothing to lose. 

Considering the payout will more than likely cover such costs, he quickly turns his attention to the bag resting on his hip, opening it up with slow hands that you jump at the chance to catch off guard. 

Pulling a dagger off your hip, you make no sound as you drive the blade into the side of his throat. All you do is press a hand to his mouth, covering the groans that swiftly coat your fingers in blood, following him toward the ground. 

“I’d say be wary the next time you come snooping in other people’s business but I’m afraid it’s too late for that, isn’t it?” you tell him, feeling him struggle. Seeing him reach out to grab the knife that sits tightly in your hand, wedging itself further into the apex of his neck. Suddenly, it makes you realize what you’ve done. 

You’ve just killed a man in cold blood. And for the life of another killer, no less. Without so much as a thought, you drove this man straight to his grave, knowing that if you didn’t the probability of him gaining the upper hand would only grow. That if he survived and caught on to your ploy, he could’ve taken Astarion away. 

You realize then that you’re anything but ready for something like that to happen. Sure, he may be the cause of a lot of your frustrations throughout the day but somehow he manages to balance them out with his charm. With his innate ability to provide you with a space that’s begun to border the lines of comfort the more time you spend with him. 

It’d hurt too much to let him go. But it’d hurt even more knowing he’d be going back to his old life. To the one you still know so little about but feel its pain. The never-ending threat of a figure controlling his every movement. He may not have spared the details but you know the last thing he wants is to find his way back there, so you did what you had to do to prevent that. To keep him safe just as you so subtly promised. 

Breathing heavily, you let go of the knife and look toward him, asking him if he’s okay. 

“Okay? Darling, you can’t be serious!”

“What?” 

He’s kneeling on the ground beside you before anything else, reaching to grab your shoulders, pulling you roughly into his chest. “You just asked that man to pay us money and then jabbed a knife through his throat. If anyone should be asking who’s okay here, it’s me.”

“I’m fine. Are y—“

“Shhh.”

Up until now, it hadn’t occurred to you how badly you’d been shaking. Against his chest, you can feel the tremors of adrenaline take over as your head slowly lowers to his shoulder, releasing a loud and shaky breath. 

You know exactly what came over you at that moment. The fear of losing the only person that’s ever made you feel happy despite your flaws became too real and it caused you to lose all sense of preservation. 

Almost instantly, you became nothing more than a weapon —a striking blade shoved through opposing flesh. You felt the threat of the moment and your mind flew through all the other possibilities, landing on the only ending where Astarion's safety was ensured. 

Realizing this, you slowly move to wrap your arms around his waist, feeling him hesitate halfway through. 

It’s obvious then you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, so you go to pull away, apologizing under your breath as you feel his grip only tighten. 

“Are you okay?”

You’re not sure why he’s asking. Or why he refuses to let you go. “Astarion, I said I’m fine.” 

“Yes but are you okay?”

One of his hands moves to cup your cheek, pulling your focus back to him. Forcing you to see the uncharacteristic care inside his eyes as he thumbs your skin. It causes your tadpole to wriggle almost uncontrollably, discovering the connection that’s there. The unspoken bond he shares with you now that you’ve proved your loyalty. It’s enough to earn your honesty. To admit that you’re not okay while he continues to hold you. 

You’re not sure why you care so much for him. Maybe it’s the attention he offers in a world where loneliness is often rampant or the way he makes you laugh even during the most unsightly moments. Either way, all you know is that in this moment you’re afraid he’ll hate you for it. For letting the curtain of snide remarks and harsh jokes slip to reveal a body of emotions too big for you to carry by yourself. 

“I couldn’t let him take you.” 

Your voice is barely above a whisper. So inaudible against the sounds of the world around you that for a second you think you’ve spoke to his mind.

“I see that. You struck him before I could even ask him to sweeten the deal.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Astarion snorts and moves his hand, letting it glide across your cheek until it finds purchase beneath your chin. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You saw a dangerous man and took charge. Honestly, it was frightening.” 

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“Of?”

“Of me?” 

The laugh he lets go of is so full that this time you feel him shake, his frame rattling against yours as he taps your chin. “Not in the slightest, my dear. Impressed, maybe. A little bit turned on too if I’m being frank but no. Not scared.”

-

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[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Happy Birthday

Just a really self-indulgent fic for my bday. And yes I am going to spend my entire birthday on bg3 trying to romance this fictional vampire.

Summary: Astarion struggles to come up with a gift for you birthday.

Astarion knew your birthday was coming up, but he didn’t know what to get you. What did you want that you already didn’t have? You already seemed rather content with whatever you had, and you barely glanced at trinkets in the markets, content with whatever loot you found during the journey. He was at quite the loss for in the romance books he had read, flowers, jewellery, perfume had been the typical gifts given and yet you had never quite been inclined towards such things.

“Astarion? Is something wrong?”

He blinks, startled and realises that you’re standing right in front of him.

“Oh, it’s nothing darling, don’t you worry,” he smiles, gently cupping your cheek. He presses a kiss to your forehead, thumb gliding over your skin. You frown but don’t press the matter further. If he was comfortable with telling you about it, he would share it with you. You weren’t going to make him uncomfortable by forcing him to tell you what was on his mind.

“Just…know that you can tell me anything, alright?” You ask worriedly, giving his hand a squeeze. He nods, lifting your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles. You smile, pulling him in for a hug and he nuzzles you in return, happy about the small act of love.

“I’ll see you later tonight,” you lean in for a kiss on the lips before quickly pulling away to head off with Wyll to scout the area ahead. He watches you go, an imprint of your warmth lingering on his skin and heads back inside his tent, trying to ignore the way his undead heart pounds against his chest, words stuck in his throat.

He spends the next few days wracking his brain on what to get you for your birthday while taking out his frustrations on the poor goblins the party encountered along the way until one day, he found something that had caught your attention. Of all things, it had to be some mediocre cloak.

“What’s so interesting about that…thing?” Astarion frowns. “I could purchase a cloak made with far better quality elsewhere.”

“But it’s handmade! It’s a product of someone’s hard work, time, effort and heart! How could you not appreciate it!” You huff, handing over the gold to the grateful merchant and hug the cloak close to your chest, smiling brightly. Astarion rolls his eyes and pulls you along before you can spend more gold on ‘mediocre items’, but this encounter has given him an idea of what to gift you for your birthday.

The moment the two of you reach camp, he slips into his tent and sneaks out the sewing kit he has stashed away in the deepest depths. A number of items he can sew for you run through his mind, but the one thing that nags away at his mind is a scarf. It has not escaped his notice how you often shiver on chilly nights, brushing it off whenever Karlach confronts you about it. He never misses how you jump whenever he touches your bare skin on such nights before giving him a reassuring smile and leaning into the touch despite the chill.

So he begins sewing a scarf, weaving it together with fabrics of your favourite colours whenever the party decides to set up camp for the night.

You raise an eyebrow when Astarion hastily disappears into his tent without even saying a word to you for the third night in a row, wondering what is going on. The first two nights you let the issue slide, thinking that he just needed some space to process whatever was going on in his head, but this was the third night and it was getting worrying.

Making your way to his tent, you pause outside the flap, wondering if by doing this you’re intruding on his privacy but decide you’d rather risk getting yelled at for sticking your nose into his business than let his potentially dark thoughts consume him.

“Astarion? I’m coming in!” You call before lifting up the tent flap, hearing a small commotion as you step in but are only greeted with the sight of Astarion holding a book, sitting on his bedroll with a smile.

“Hello, dearest.” He’s sitting rather stiffly for someone who ‘has been reading for the past however long’, stirring suspicion within you but you pretend that you haven’t noticed anything, hoping that you can coax whatever it was out of him.

“You haven’t been feeding lately.” You start off with a simple comment to lower his guard.

“There are plenty of bears around these woods, darling, don’t you worry.”

“I thought you said bear blood isn’t as tasty as mine?”

“You have been rather busy as of late, darling. I didn’t want to tire you further.”

“You’re the one who has been rather busy as of late, disappearing into your tent immediately after we set up camp.” You point out, arms folded across your chest. “Is there something that’s bothering you?”

“No?” He blinks, “I’ve just been rather engrossed in this book as of late.”

“So engrossed that you can’t even set aside some time to spend with me?”

Oh. He screwed up.

“I didn’t mean to —”

“Am I really less interesting than a book?”

“Of course not!” Astarion shifts anxiously. Was he going to lose whatever was going on between the both of you? He hadn’t thought about how his fixation on getting that scarf sewn on time for your birthday would affect you, the message his actions would send you, and how…all he wanted was to make you happy.

Your gaze softens and you apologise for being so harsh with him, which he automatically brushes off with a fake smile and a laugh, saying that it was alright but you could tell you had set something off in the deep recesses of his mind.

“Astarion.” You say gently.

“Yes darling?”

“Please tell me if I’ve hurt you. I never intend to, but I need to know if I have so that I won’t repeat it again,” you plead, worry gnawing at your insides. What if his guard was back up, leaving him alone with his own mind that tore him apart? What if he was pushing you away, you couldn’t imagine a life without him in every facet of it. What if he had grown tired of you, or worse, afraid of you? You didn’t want to lose the bond so painstakingly forged and greatly cherished, the very thought that he would leave scared you far more than anything in the world.

“It’s not that!” He quickly stands to his feet, swiftly closing the distance and wraps his arms around you tightly. “It’s…nothing, I promise. Don’t leave me.”

He whispers the last part but you catch it anyways. Burying your face into his chest, you wrap your arms around him as well, breathing in his scent.

“I won’t ever leave you, you’re my star, I’m lost without you.”

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second and a wide smile graces his face, a smile you cannot see and he doesn’t want you to see. A giddy feeling bubbles within his chest, he had never thought he would ever find anyone who would love him, and yet here he was, standing in the arms of someone who considered him their everything.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, the half-sewn scarf left forgotten. He would much rather spend the rest of the night with you, in your embrace and so he does, happily purring away when you massage his scalp and pressing as many kisses as he possibly can to your face.

Your worries are washed away when you see him relax like this, slipping into a trance whilst he’s curled up against you. Maybe you were worried about nothing after all. You run your fingers through his soft silvery curls, humming a lullaby you remember from your childhood as you feel sleep claim you and you drift off soon after, burning the image of a trancing Astarion into your mind.

You and Astarion fall into a routine in the following days where he would spend the first half of the night alone in his tent, doing whatever secret private thing he was doing and then he would move over to your tent for the remainder of the night, spending it either cuddling or reading with you. It was an agreement the both of you were satisfied with, and the whole party was relieved that the tension had faded. Bit by bit Astarion inched closer towards a finished scarf, and the night before your birthday, he finally had the complete product.

“Finally!” He groaned, collapsing onto his bedroll. It wasn’t the best scarf he’d ever seen, but it was decent enough, at least for his standards. Then the doubt started creeping in. Would you like it? Would you wear it? What if all the effort he had put into making the scarf was for naught? But then he remembers how until now, you’ve been wearing that mediocre cloak you had bought because it was handmade and it reassures him a little. He wouldn’t know how you felt about his scarf until he gifted it to you.

When the sun rose on your big day, Astarion waited until the others had said their well wishes and given you their gifts before approaching you.

“Y/N.” He says.

“Yes, Star?” You tilt your head in confusion. He rarely called you by your name, and when he did it was usually a serious matter.

“Happy birthday,” he says quickly, embarrassed as he thrusts a neatly wrapped package into your arms.

You beam, eagerly tearing it open and gasp when you see what lies inside.

“A scarf! I’ve been meaning to get one!” You cheer. “Thank you, Star! Really!”

His heart warms at your words, his lips curling up slightly as he watches you struggle to put it on.

“Would you like some help with that, my love?” He reaches over anyways, untangling you from the fabric and expertly wraps it around your neck before finishing it with a peck to your fore head. “There, done.”

You happily twirl around, playing with the ends of your scarf and giggle, throwing yourself at the vampire.

“Thank you so much!”

“Anytime, love.”

“Where did you buy this from?” You ask, happily burying your face into the soft fabric.

“I…I made it myself,” he mumbles, twiddling his fingers.

“You did? It must have taken so long to make this! That makes it even more precious!” You hug him tightly.

“I’m glad you like it,” he kisses the top of your head, all worry long washed away.

“Of couse I do. Anything you give me, I like it.” You grin up at him. “Now, can we spend the rest of the day together?”

“I would like nothing more, my love.”

[aro-tarot]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Astarion/Tav (Baldur's Gate), Astarion/The Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Character(s), Shadowheart & Tav (Baldur's Gate), The Dark Urge & Shadowheart, Astarion & Karlach (Baldur's Gate) Characters: Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Tav (Baldur's Gate), Original Non-Binary Character, The Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Gale (Baldur's Gate), Lae'zel (Baldur's Gate), His Majesty (Baldur's Gate) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Reincarnation, Nonbinary Tav (Baldur's Gate), Artist Tav, Archivist Astarion, Spoilers for Astarion Backstory (Baldur's Gate), Spoilers for Quest: The Pale Elf | Astarion's Companion Quest (Baldur's Gate), Spoilers for Quest: The Urge | The Dark Urge Storyline (Baldur's Gate), Romance, Fluff and Angst, Past Astarion/Tav (Baldur's Gate), Past Lives, Alternate Universe - Past Lives, Mystery Summary:

Not every artist has a muse, but for Nulihn, their work is almost entirely centered around theirs. They don’t know his story or even his name. As far as they know, though, he’s a character that their mind created when they were fifteen. Yet somehow, the pale elf of their art and the glimpses they see in their head feels more than that. He feels like a person.

Struggling with migraines isn’t an uncommon thing for Astarion. It’s something that he’s been dealing with all this life. He tries to hide it, to mask what he’s feeling, to not let anyone see any weakness that he has. It’s usually easy to put a practiced smile on his face, but there are… certain migraines. When they come, he can only hope that he only hears a tune being played in the background or sees a reassuring and gentle smile. He doesn’t want to lose himself in the others.

Neither had any idea that the other existed until a small art show in a bookshop called Tara’s brought them together.

[nat20composure]

Astarion and Agency- The Necessity of Discomfort to Self Discovery and the Infantilization of Victims

Minor Astarion discourse ahead that mentions the treatment of SA victims post-abuse:

I want to open this post up just with like. The statement that I don't think there is a correct way to enjoy media and that I LOVE to see individual head cannons and takes on characters in media. I think that is also, to a degree, an integral part of video games because of how unique the experience of playing a game will be to every person who plays it. But it has been making me feel so incredibly sad looking through fan content, art, or discourse for BG3 specifically because of how many people have taken the route of infantilizing Astarion.

I understand the instinct to shield or protect an individual that you love and care for. I also understand that because of the nature of the things that Astarion goes through, a lot of people also feel very deep emotional stakes in him. I'm one of the many fans of the character who is a victim of SA and CSA, I really do get it. That is also why for me personally it is so demoralizing to watch so many people treat him like he is a child who cannot make his own decisions or stand up for himself. Part of that frustration stems from it feeling like a media literacy issue, and the other part of that sense of defeat is just because it feels indicative of a broader attitude that people seem to hold towards victims of abuse, particularly those who are victims of SA.

To explain what I mean by people infantilizing him: I see so many people refuse to allow him the opportunity to be hurt, or to feel uncomfortable. They see this character who has been through an immensely horrible and traumatic experience, and their instinct is to try and shield him from anything else that has the potential to upset him. I get that the people who want that aren't doing it with malicious intent, but frankly it is not really...Helpful? To try and prevent victims from Experiencing Discomfort tm. I also think it kind of disregards the entire thesis of Astarion's character and arc.

When you go through something that robs you of your selfhood and agency, the world can become a crushingly terrifying place. In Astarion, that fear presents itself in a desperation for power, control, and at the core of both of these desires- Safety. One thing the game is clear about is that he has a right to kill his abuser. He has a right to escape his situation. A lot of Astarion's personal arc is centered around being able to finally do that. But the game doesn't just leave it off at getting him to safety. So much of it is also about him needing to take responsibility for himself and his actions, with needing to learn who he as a person is.

The inclusion of the Gur children and Sebastian as characters is a good example of ways in which the game gives Astarion the opportunity to take responsibility. I think that if the intention of the arc was meant to be that "Astarion should never ever have to deal with being afraid or uncomfortable again", then the Ascended arc wouldn't Come with such heavy moral ramifications, like sacrificing the other people just like him, killing the victims he lured in, literal child murder. The game infers that he doesn't deserve to die because of the things he Needed to do to survive, but it also makes it very clear that there is a difference between addressing an Active Threat and using your fear as an excuse to hurt others. Breaking that cycle of abuse when he finally gets the chance to is what separates Spawn Astarion from Cazador.

Taking responsibility for himself, and letting himself sit in the discomfort of vulnerability ultimately ends up being a thing that he is very proud of and cherishes. If you tell him you will make sure nothing like that ever again he himself says that he doesn't want you to be his protector. And so it blows my mind when people go into all of these discussions about Astarion with this...Weird moral high ground for never, ever making or letting him make choices that might hurt him?

I see this the most when it comes to discussions about the possible polyamorous relationship with Halsin and the interaction with the drow twins in the brothel. So many people are just...outright angry? At other people engaging with either of those options? And I feel like that anger is one) rooted in the projection of their Own feelings on non-monogamy and what a victim of SA can or cannot look like. and two) Relies on undermining the agency that Astarion BEGS you for at every turn.

When it comes to the drow twins, the game adapts Astarion's response to them based on where he is in his own personal development (a really cool thing imo). Obviously, if he still doesn't feel good or safe about engaging with sex he declines and says you can feel free, though he hopes you aren't just doing it because he hasn't had sex with you. I think this makes sense: He's just gotten out of a situation where his Safety and worth were directly tied to him having sex. I imagine he feels afraid that not wanting to have sex with you makes him replaceable or inadequate because at this point in the game, he feels like that's all he has to offer. The interaction is relatively the same if you ask him for a poly amorous relationship with Halsin: He just asks you to reassure him that you aren't only doing it because he hasn't had sex with you, and then tells you he isn't worried about it otherwise.

A lot of people have taken the expression of that insecurity in combination with him still allowing you to go forward and do these things as him just "sucking it up" because he's afraid of losing you. (I am aware Shadowheart says he wouldn't be able to handle it when you ask her if you can date both of them- But keep in mind, Astarion says she wouldn't be able to either, and THAT obviously isn't true of her. For the purposes of this discussion I'm only including interactions with Astarion as a judgement of his character.) I understand that concern, but I feel this take disregards so many other points of dialogue, and is also continually rooted in the baseline vilification of discomfort.

To further go into it, the way that he speaks about both of these interactions changes significantly if you speak to him about it once he is completely free from Cazador, and has had time to allow himself to start reconnecting with himself and his sexuality on his terms. He has absolutely No reservations about an open or poly relationship with Halsin, and says he trusts that things will be ok because he one) feels secure in Your relationship and two) Knows Halsin is experienced and trusts him to not be a messy bitch about it.

I think that shift, in combination with the in game explanation of why he isn't ok with being in that sort of relationship with the other Origin Characters (for Lae'zel and Wyll, he says they'd never agree to that. For Shadowheart, he says she's not experienced with open relationships and that he doesn't think it'd work out. For Karlach, that it would break her heart. And for Gale, he says you need standards.) is a pretty good indicator that he doesn't actually care about polyamory or monogamy. I think the vilification of that choice relies on you picking and choosing when you do or do not believe Astarion or just outright not liking non-monogamy in the first place. This interaction has more to do with the player's choice and comfort level, and so is not as important to the broader discussion I am trying to have in this post.

The interaction that is more pertinent to not Allowing him to make decisions is, I think, the drow twins. If you interact with the drow twins after the completion of the Cazador questline, he is outright giddy at the prospect of interacting with the Drow twins. Specifically stating that he is excited to see how he likes these sorts of things now that he's free.

NOW- I do NOT think that he enjoys the act. The game makes that abundantly clear, and I'm not arguing that he has a great time. He obviously does not, and dissociates during it. That being said, allowing this interaction to happen does not make a player evil or selfish. You are not playing the hero if you decide to moderate his choices just because you do not think he is ready for it. Once again, no one is evil for Not doing it either, and I am not saying anybody has to want to. I am just saying that treating this choice like it is an evil choice to make relies on completely disregarding what He wants to do.

Astarion says so many times in the game that he is anxious about finally having the freedom to find out what he wants to do, and I think that his excitement for the drow twin exchange is one of the opportunities the game gives him to make a choice. He makes that choice- And it sucks for him. He doesn't enjoy the act, and having done it he would be able to move forward knowing that. I think it's really cool and important that the game represents that facet of recovering as a victim. While you are trying to renavigate who you are, you are going to make a million new choices you never had before. And sometimes those choices are going to suck ass. It would be a different matter if he knew these things would hurt him and went ahead and did them anyway. But so many people expect him to move forward avoiding even the Potential of being hurt, and I think that is extremely reductive of his arc and who he is.

Beyond the matter of interpersonal relationships, the choice between Ascending or not Ascending Astarion is not a matter of choosing the lesser of two evils. It is a choice between his fear and his humanity. Between letting his trauma and his fear define him for the rest of his immortal life, and allowing him the vulnerability of deciding who he is when he isn't running from the world. When he's willing to listen to the parts of himself that want to do right, that wants meaningful connection, that wants to be proud of himself. That wants to meet himself. To confront who he is when someone else isn't deciding that for him.

Astarion as a character is extremely ambitious, inquisitive, and adventurous, three traits that only become more and more evident as he breaks free from letting his own fear dictate how he lives his life. I don't understand how so many people can see him and want to take the core of his character away from him, when he spends the entire game fighting desperately to take it back.

Victims are not casts of the abuse they have gone through. Their shapes may be changed by the hands of others, they may have to relearn how to be the person they want to be. But they are not broken or irreparable or fragile. They do not need to be freed from the grip of one person to be held tight in the grip of another. It is so fucking unfair and self-important to think that your hands will be the ones that fix them. That your hands know better than theirs. I think the kindest thing you can do for a person is to trust them with themselves, and to listen when they tell you who they are and what they want. Please listen to the voices that have only just learned to speak. It is the only way they can get better at doing it.

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (8) - Revelations

Chapter summary: You finally confront Ava, but the conversation takes an unexpected turn.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: Innuendo. Mentions of abuse and trauma.

Word count: 5.3k

Series Masterlist

You found him by the edge of a cliff overlooking Baldur's Gate.

The first rays of light began to spill into the morning sky in hues of yellow fused with orange. You would never tire of watching the city you called home being engulfed in such beauty.

“Enjoying the view?”

Astarion was holding a somewhat mellow smile on his lips as he turned to face you.

“I hadn't seen this much colour bathing the city in over two hundred years.”

You stopped next to him, looping an arm around his and resting your face against his shoulder.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?”

He sighed. “I do not want to get too attached to it. In case things go awry, that is.”

‘Awry’ meaning that he wouldn't be able to ascend…

It always made your heart clench to think about how much Astarion still held on to that.

But you didn't want to think about such things for now.

For now, you were more than content to share this moment with him.

“The sun looks beautiful on you,” you said truthfully.

It wasn't exactly a challenge, but you adored praising and stroking his ego.

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “As most things do, darling."

"That is true.”

He then placed his cold hand atop yours. “As you once did.”

His words hit you with such force that you felt your chest too heavy all of a sudden.

You glanced up at him, meeting his soft crimson eyes. “Astarion…”

Would he ever move on?

Would he ever move on from you?

He offered a defeated smile. “I know, I know. Just friends, right?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He didn't utter another word as he looked on ahead.

You kept your grip around him, enjoying his firmness and how he made you feel so safe and comfortable.

Deep down, you were just thankful he couldn't see the single tear that streamed down your face.

The cold and wet trail brought you back to witness the sight of the sun emerging on the horizon line. 

You pulled your legs up so you could rest your chin on your knees, hugging yourself as the breathtaking view filled your vision.

How you wished you could share this with him like many times before.

As lovers.

As friends.

You wiped the tear away with the back of your hand as sadness spread inside you.

There was no point in dwelling in the impossible. At least until you found a way for him to experience all the colour the world had to offer with no limitations.

Sleep hadn't come to you this night and it wasn't because of nightmares or the fact that Astarion had left you painfully yearning for his touch.

Your mind was just all over the place, trying to make sense of how things felt with him after that conversation.

Truth be told, you were more than happy with the occasional intimacy and giving him space.

But his taunting words still lingered in your mind.

You were certain he craved more than a friendship, but how much of that spread beyond carnal lust was something you weren't sure about.

Maybe even Astarion didn't know.

As much as you longed for more, you still wanted to mend your friendship first and bridge the distance that had come between you two. 

As you pushed yourself from the bed and slipped into your robe, you took a quick glance at the mirror in front of you.

Eyes puffy and reddened paired with deep eyebags.

Wonderful.

You heaved a deep sigh as you exited the room, heading towards the kitchen area to brew some tea.

The door to his room was firmly shut and you hurried past it with bare feet.

The entire house was still swallowed in silence and darkness.

You quickly lit up a few candles before reigniting the fireplace and putting the kettle on.

The familiar squeak of the door to his room filled your ears.

As the water came to a boil, you poured a few herbs inside the cup as you poured the scalding liquid.

You heard him call out your name and your stomach immediately fluttered as he came into view, slowly pacing towards you.

“How did you know it was me?”

Astarion's lips curled into a smile. “I know the sound of your footsteps by heart.”

There was no trace of deceit in his remark.

His voice rang true and not as a mere attempt at flustering you with honeyed words.

He meant it and you felt the warm embrace of his presence tightly enveloping you.

Astarion had learned the way to your heart like no one else had ever tried to. 

He could crawl under your skin and have you yearn for him like no one else could.

And he did all of this effortlessly and like second nature.

You returned a warm smile, feeling the addictive embrace of his presence.

He felt like the home you longed to come back to.

As you moved to sit on the sofa nearby, enjoying the warmth that radiated from the cup in your hands, he eventually sat next to you, crimson eyes meeting yours and, for a moment, you held your breath.

He was your home.

“You look horrible.”

A snarky one.

You chuckled at his bluntness, taking a sip. “Didn't get much sleep.”

“Nightmares again?”

“No. My mind was just busy…”

He slowly nodded. “Was it too much? What we did?”

You glared at him in surprise. “What? No. What about you?”

His eyes narrowed. “I wanted more.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

He crossed his legs, adjusting his elegant shirt. “It wasn't nearly enough.”

“You were the one to stop it…”

“Because I had to. Gods know how long it took to… calm down, so to speak.”

The implication that dangled from his words wasn't particularly subtle.

Oh.

Oh.

Your cheeks flared up. “I… didn't hear you…”

Astarion flashed a teasing smile. “I know how to avoid being heard, unlike a certain someone.”

Bad timing had you nearly choking on your tea.

“Careful, darling. You'll get all wet… again.”

The nerve!

You shot him murderous glare, wiping your chin.

Then the two fell into a comfortable silence.

You melted into the backrest of the sofa, cradling the cup in your hands, humming a tune that you had almost forgotten about.

“I find myself missing our journey, you know?” he said after a while.

“Even having to play the hero?”

He tapped his chin pensively. “Even that, as surprising as it sounds. I could have done without all your ridiculous acts of heroism, but I grew to enjoy indulging in some of them.”

Your heart thudded happily at his honesty.

“Who would have thought that you’d find joy in being selfless,” you teased with a smile.

He lifted one finger. “Do not misunderstand. I still come first. I spent too many centuries not being able to and I won't give that up now.”

You nodded, fully understanding his line of thinking.

In the meantime, your hand had dropped in between you two and you felt coldness reach your fingers.

You looked down, startled, only to be met with his fingers gently brushing against yours.

And just like clockwork, your heart sped up.

Astarion had his eyes fixed on the swirling flames that emanated from the fireplace.

Little by little, his fingers began to intertwine with yours until his hand gripped you tightly.

Your mind blanked for a moment at how unexpected this was.

In time, his cold skin began to warm up against yours.

And then it dawned on you that he had never held your hand this way.

He had helped you up on your feet more times than you could count.

He had gripped your hand in his as both of you hurried along collapsing halls and while being chased by the most vicious of creatures.

But he had never held your hand as if seeking for silent comfort.

You shifted so you could rest your head on his shoulder.

He tensed slightly under your touch, but eventually relaxed and you seized the opportunity to melt into his side, enjoying the familiar scent of bergamot and rosemary.

Home.

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but the tear in your cup had gone tepid and you began to feel guilty.

You had considered not telling him about confronting Ava.

But you didn't want to lie and hide anything from him, especially if it concerned him in the first place.

You pulled slightly away from him and he met your gaze.

“I'm going to meet Ava tonight.”

You expected an angry outburst of indignation from him, but were met with an inquisitive glare instead.

“Why doesn't that surprise me at all?”

That was it?

“Wait… you are not going to talk me out of it?”

At this, he faintly chuckled, still firmly gripping your hand in his.

“Honestly, darling, when has that ever worked?”

Point taken.

He knew of your stubbornness all too well.

“Besides, do you intend on killing her?”

You widened your eyes. “I – no? I don't think so?”

Though you couldn't swear on this until you were actually absolutely sure she was as harmless as he claimed her to be.

“Then, you have my blessing.”

You then narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him. “You don't even want to go with me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“It's not necessary.”

He shrugged. “Then I won't.”

Astarion was acting uncharacteristically accepting of your intrusion, and that rang a plethora of alarm bells in your head.

It was as if he knew you'd have no reason to harm her.

“Why are you so… calm about this?”

His eyes met yours. “I am well aware you can turn Ava into a pile of dust should she cross your path. But I don't believe you will do such a thing.”

“Why not? I don't trust her.”

His grip around your fingers eased slightly. “I don't expect you to, but you do trust me, don't you?”

“Yes.”

You didn't hesitate for a second. After all, you had trusted Astarion through things that most people would have staked him for. The two of you were way past the uncertainty of not trusting each other's intentions.

It was more evident that the glaring issue that plagued your relationship was rooted in miscommunication and not mistrust.

“And I trust her.”

That ground on your nerves. “But why?”

“Because I have to.”

You immediately dropped his hand, turning in your seat to fully face him, already feeling the familiar irritation that came with him not being fully open with you at times.

“Astarion, you need to start telling me why you hold her in such high regards,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You can also trust me. Whatever it is… just tell me.”

He glared at you with a faint scowl. “She is taking my blood with the intention of lessening some vampirism weaknesses.”

Oh?

“Such as?”

“Well, the insatiable hunger is the main focus.”

You stared at him in silence, not quite sure what to make of this.

The Wish Spell could grant him the ability to walk in the sun again, but this seemed even more ambitious.

And dangerous.

“Obviously, this is all rather theoretical, but it seemed like a sound prospect,” he went on, sinking into the sofa with an exasperated sigh. “As selfish as I am, I also considered how this could be helpful to the spawn in the Underdark.”

His words took you quite aback.

“This… seems too good to be true,” you said hesitantly.

“Oh, I'm aware. That is why I am keeping my expectations in check.”

You really, really wanted to hate Ava.

But if her motifs were truly this altruistic, then you were going to have a hard justifying that feeling, which provided another added layer of anger altogether.

“So, if you want to talk to her, you are free to do so. Seeing is believing or so they say,” he said with a witty grin.

You sighed.

Astarion was a bad planner.

No. He was a terrible planner.

He could identify the end goal, but would have no clue how to get there and would merely make adjustments as he went along, hoping for the best.

Luck had been on his side as of late, but you lacked that optimism.

And he obviously saw that splattered across your face.

“Oh, please. I know that look – just say it,” he scoffed.

You weren't even sure what you wanted to say.

Deep down, you felt extremely protective of him and didn't appreciate that she was exchanging lessons in intimacy for his blood.

It all seemed very one-sided and the promise of also helping him – and by extension, the spawn in the underdark – still seemed unrealistically… convenient.

“Are you even sure any of this will work? Has she made any progress with your blood?”

“Some progress. Not enough to keep me too hopeful, but I will take anything these days.”

You could sympathise with the sentiment, but…

“I still think there is something off about her.”

Astarion just looked as amused as ever. “No jealousy?”

You rolled your eyes. “No.”

“Well, she would have nothing to gain from sending us both to prison,” he said. “She knows I exclusively feed on you and that I do need to feed regularly.”

The nonchalant way in which he uttered those words, brought a wave of heat to your face, as the events from a few hours earlier resurfaced in your mind.

There was a hint of intimacy in the act itself, but also in the aftermath. Astarion's senses would be sharpened as your blood coursed through his body.

“Seems like I broke your concentration, darling,” he said teasingly, effectively snapping you from your thoughts.

You jolted briefly and then scowled, annoyed that he could see right through you so easily.

“Don't flatter yourself.”

He gave you a devious smile. “I don't have to. Not when your body provides the finest flattery there is.”

Gods.

You wished you could turn off the effect his honeyed words always had on you.

Clearing your throat, you straightened up in your seat. “Very well, then. I am willing to be enlightened.”

A teasing smile tugged faintly at his lips. “Good girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

Regaining your composure, you said, “Wyll is going there with me tonight.”

Astarion drew a sleazy grin this time. “Oh, so that was what the two of you were plotting yesterday.”

You rolled your eyes.

“And here I thought sweet Wyll had finally mustered the courage to take you out on a lavish date,” he said with a dramatic and forceful pout. “Seems like romance is dead, after all.”

For some odd reason, Astarion was under the impression that Wyll harboured feelings for you that surpassed friendship.

But what Astarion didn't know was that your heart was too full of him to allow room for anyone else.

His taunting words created the perfect opening for you to return the gesture.

“No jealousy?”

His smile only grew wider. “Do you want me to be jealous?”

You were entering his territory, and should tread lightly. 

“Maybe you should be jealous,” you whispered.

He shifted closer to you and you held your breath.

“And why is that? Why should I be jealous of your friendship with him?”

Gods, he was good .

Your heart drummed faster in your chest as his face drew near.

He was a master at disarming you with carefully laid out traps whilst using his words as alluring bait.

“He's very… friendly.”

You inwardly cringed at your ridiculous remark, which earned a chuckle from Astarion.

At this point, he was so close you almost feel his cool lips on yours.

“Well, hopefully not this friendly.”

That was it.

He was going to kiss you and you couldn't give a damn about it.

But before he could do so, the faint rhythmic thud of footsteps pulled you out of immersion, and the two of you pulled apart at once.

Lae'zel.

She reached the bottom of the staircase, eyeing both of you like she had just run into the most disappointing event of her life.

“The sun has yet to fully rise, and the two of you are already at it again,” she said with a scowl. “Wasn't the coupling from last night enough?”

Your jaw dropped open in sheer mortification.

Surely she hadn't… heard anything… right?

“Where is your sense of decorum, Lae'zel?” Astarion clicked his tongue, leaning back against the sofa once more.

She gave him a stern glare. “You wouldn't know decorum if it hit you in that pale face of yours, Astarion.”

He chuckled. “My, my… someone is feisty today.”

“The sounds you two made could raise the dead from their graves,” she said, moving swiftly towards the front door with her sword keeping her company. “I am not sure how much more of this torture I can take.”

You stood up at once, feeling embarrassment take over. “Oh! We… uh… Astarion was just feeding and–”

She held a hand up. “Spare me the grotesque details. I'll be going out on a hunt. Don't expect me for lunch.”

And without a further exchange, she slipped through the door.

Astarion was now on his feet and heading towards the staircase.

Somehow, you couldn't help but feel a tad of disappointment as he left your side.

His company was something you reckoned you'd never tire from.

“See you later, darling. And do fix that lovely face of yours,��� he teased dramatically. “Rose water works like a charm.”

And you couldn't hold back an endearing smile.

The night came quicker than you had hoped.

Confronting Ava made you feel truly uneasy, especially after learning some more about her.

As promised, Wyll had come to you, escorted by two Fists. The mage slayer stationed outside, quickly joined the four of you, and you felt the magic within you dip dangerously low from her presence.

The journey to The Blushing Mermaid proved to be rather uneventful and you were more than thankful for it.

“Does Astarion know about this?”

You nodded. “He has also told me the reason why she's taking his blood.”

Wyll's eyes met yours and you could see the tension on his face. “Whatever could be the reason?”

Fortunately, the two Fists walked far behind the two of you to preserve some privacy.

“She wants to lessen the effects of vampiric hunger.”

He arched an eyebrow and you approached the familiar tavern.

“That sounds too convenient .”

You almost pulled Wyll into a kiss as he unknowingly validated your concerns.

“Exactly. Maybe I am overthinking it, but I need to make sure nonetheless.”

He nodded firmly.

Those crowding the entrance immediately made way for you to walk inside, and you heard a few salutes as others inside bowed to Wyll.

Bork approached the counter with a tilted smile on his face. “Duke of Ravengard. To what do we owe the pleasure? Hope we are not in trouble?”

A few drunkards nearby erupted in laughter.

“Unless you have indeed done something unlawful, I wouldn't worry too much, Bork.”

He offered Wyll a forced smile, which he didn't return.

“We are looking for Ava,” you chimed in impatiently.

His face instantly dropped. “Ava? Is she in trouble?"

Honestly, what was with everyone and this woman? Was she some goddess in disguise?

“We just wish to talk to her,” Wyll answered.

Bork hesitated at first, but glared at the two Fists flanking you. “First floor. Third room to your left.”

You nodded and swiftly made your way upstairs, feeling your heart hammering fast in your chest as you paced along the corridor.

Wyll knocked thrice on the large door.

It swung open almost immediately, and Ava came into view, holding a knowing smile.

“I was expecting you.”

A swirl of nausea settled in your stomach.

She extended one hand, standing to the side so you could walk in.

“As pleased as I am to be visited by our Duke, I shall ask for you not to enter.”

You immediately turned to see Wyll scowl deeply. “Tonight I'm no Duke – I'm her friend and you shall let me enter.”

Ava tapped on the door lightly. “These are my quarters, and unless I am being charged with wrongdoing, I have the right to decide who to invite inside, Duke .”

The two Fists were gripping the handle of their swords, ready to draw them.

Wyll motioned for the to be at ease and turned his head to you. “I will be waiting outside.”

Ava wiggled her fingers dismissively, further gnawing at your nerves.

“Do not try anything witty, hunter,” Wyll said in a tone you hadn't heard since he last faced Mizora.

She chuckled. “I have abandoned those ways. You may simply call me Ava.”

But before he could reply, she pushed the door closed in one swing and glanced at you with an excessively sweet smile.

“So? I don't believe you came all the way here to simply gawk at me.”

You cleared your throat. “I have a few things I need to discuss with you.”

“Of course. I would be surprised if you didn't.”

Your patience was running thin.

“It concerns Astarion.”

“Still not surprised,” she said with a tilted smile. “I'm all ears.”

“He's told me about you.”

“Hopefully not everything, but do go on.”

She moved to a table and poured a red liquid into a goblet. “Can I tempt you with some red wine?”

You scowled and she laughed. “It is not poisoned, though I do understand your hesitation.” She then took a long sip.

Glancing around the room, you realised it could easily pass off as the inside of an apothecary store. There were endless rows of shelves and cupboards that housed countless vials of glass with suspicious content.

There was a small fire burning by the window with a large flask set right above, the flames barely reaching the bottom as a deep dark red liquid gurgled.

Ava sat on a lavish armchair, holding the goblet to her lips.

“I know you're taking his blood for some experiment in regards to vampirism,” you began, keeping your voice steady. “Even to supposedly help the vampire spawn in the Underdark.”

Her pleasant face wavered momentarily. “He's offering it to me. Freely.”

“You are taking advantage of him.”

“I am not taking advantage of anything. It's a mere transaction that we have both agreed upon.”

“Blood for intimacy?”

“That seems rather… crass.”

“You are taking advantage of his… wounds…”

“Why are you so hellsbent on accusing me of being the one taking advantage of him? He also has much to win from this arrangement.”

“Because you have the upper hand here. The price for a chance at healing from his wounds seems rather unbalanced,” you said, feeling heat flare throughout your entire body. “You get his blood, which is a sure thing, and he gets a ‘perhaps’ on all fronts: intimacy and that hunger “cure” you're promising.”

Ava glared at you with eyes slightly narrowed, chin resting on the back of her hand.

“There are wounds that take time to heal. Some never heal at all, my dear.”

“I'm aware.”

“Are you? Are you, really?” Ava said with a scoff. “I am not the enemy here. Your vitriol against me is rooted in something primal.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Primal?”

“Is it jealousy, I wonder?”

You clenched your fists. “It is not. Whatever bond you think you share with him is superficial and frail. There's nothing to be jealous of.”

“Actually, I do believe your words… it is not jealousy, indeed,” she said, tapping a long nail on her chin. “But rather… protectiveness.”

You remained silent.

“I dare say that protectiveness can blind even the wisest.”

“I am not blinded. I can see there is something unsettling about you.”

“You look, but you do not see,” she said as she took a sip of her wine. “Your attachment to him is your weakness.”

“Caring for others isn't a weakness.”

“You taught him that, did you?”

The faint mockery wasn't lost on you, and it made your nails dig further into your palms, regning in your temper as best as you could.

“He doesn't need to be taught anything. Astarion may need some guidance, as we all do from time to time.”

Ava merely chuckled. “May I see your neck?”

What?

Her words caught you off guard, but you did not move an inch to comply with her request.

“Ah… your reluctance is answer enough,” she tutted. “He has fed on you recently, hasn't he?”

Now, that immediately had your stomach turn in revulsion, realising just how transparent she truly was.

“So this is what it's all about – you just want him to feed on you instead.”

Ava rolled her eyes with a forced yawn. “On the contrary. Of course, I have vaguely wondered what it feels like, but Astarion is far too devoted to your blood to even entertain the idea.”

“Then why did you complain to me about him not feeding on you?”

She crossed her legs elegantly under her emerald green dress. “I was merely taunting you. Again, his devotion gets in the way.”

“I wouldn't necessarily call it ‘devotion’.”

“Oh, but I would. See, Astarion's bond to you is exquisite and much welcome… to say the least.”

Her flowery words were really testing your patience now.

“Elaborate.”

“The last time he fed on you and gave me his blood was right when you left The Blushing Mermaid. A few days later, I tried his blood on some spawn in the city outskirts that have taken to living underground in search of a cure.” She paused briefly to take yet another sip from the goblet. “The results were vastly different from my previous experiments.”

“Can you just get straight to the point for once?”

“Oh, you really are a feisty one…” Ava said with a teasing smile. “As I was saying, the results were rather interesting and unexpected. The spawn reported feeling sated much quicker than before, but the effect wore off in the first hour, which was a disappointment.”

You froze instantly. “You're… using my blood?”

“Well, yes… and no,” she said in a casual tone. “Your blood mixed with his, that is. Before that day, I had never tried his blood after he fed on you.”

You felt as though you might be sick as your stomach lurched violently.

“This is… I – does he know?”

“Well, I haven't been given the chance, considering how the two of you got thrown into prison,” she said with a shrug. “And I am fully aware you think I am somehow responsible for it.”

You were still so taken aback by her earlier revelation, that you had momentarily forgotten about that detail.

“Now, what would I gain from setting you two up, especially after I just told you this.”

She did have a point.

Seemingly.

“You mentioned other spawn – why not use their blood instead? Why his?”

“Oh, darling… ” 

The way that word rolled out of her tongue grated on your nerves, and you realised only one person could masterfully use it without provoking a visceral reaction.

“Astarion isn't really your regular spawn, is he? Even when he was under Cazador Szarr's influence, he would still rebel against his commands while his siblings cowered in fear of defying their master.”

An overwhelming sense of dread took over at once.

Astarion has revealed how Cazador had kept him buried alive for a whole year as punishment for letting a potential victim go.

He had clawed his hands raw from despair as he wished for death to just take him.

Even remembering this vaguely, made your heart hurt for him.

“How do you know that?”

Ava rose to her full height, brushing her long and dark curls from her shoulders.

She paced towards a desk and began ruffling through pieces of parchment.

“I was a monster hunter for over twenty years and my group kept a close eye on Cazador and his spawn,” she said, not lifting her eyes. “Astarion had been on our radar for a while, but he was quite experienced in slipping through the cracks whenever we tried to go after him.”

You swallowed.

“Imagine our surprise when he suddenly goes missing. My partners were dumbfounded beyond belief. No vampire spawn is able to resist the compell of their master for that long.”

She then moved back to the armchair, flipping through a couple of scrolls.

“We thought he had met his demise somehow, so imagine my surprise when I find out that he's back in Baldur's Gate. Walking in the sunlight and next to… you.”

You weren't sure where this conversation was headed and you weren't sure you wanted to know.

Ava took your silence as encouragement. “Cazador was attempting to become the Vampire Ascendant and we were set on stopping him, but were instead met with his manor bathed in blood and corpses littering the place.”

So they had gotten there after your group stopped the ritual and prevented the rite from taking place.

“So now you're suddenly an alchemist who wants to help vampire spawn? Why the change of heart?”

Ava met your eyes and her face was void of any amusement. “Astarion and I connect in more ways than you think.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and waiting to hear some circus clown reasoning.

“I wasn't a monster hunter by choice,” she said sternly. “I was born into it and molded into their ways.”

Your defensive demeanour wavered momentarily.

“I shall not go into details, but all you need to know is that once Cazador Szarr was gone, I was driven by curiosity and sought Astarion out so I could learn more about what makes him so different from all the other spawn I've come across.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “So you just left your group? Just like that?”

She snickered. “They were killed.”

“What? By whom?”

She snickered as she took another sip. “By me.”

You were left speechless.

“I thought that if a vampire spawn could break the chains from his master and embrace freedom again, so could I.”

She let out a chuckle, emptying the goblet in one sip.

“So, I offered to help him as he's helped me. No more, no less.”

You really wanted to hate her.

You wanted her to give you a solid reason to be suspicious of her intentions.

But…

“So you genuinely care for him?”

She nodded. “I do. And if Astarion were to walk through that door and ask for us to part ways, I would accept it. It would essentially kill my research until I found someone remotely adequate, but I would make peace with it.”

This conversation had not taken the turn you expected.

At all.

“I can see the confusion in your eyes. You truly believed I am out to get you when I'm probably your best option right now.”

“Best option? In regards to what?”

She extended her arm towards a chair in front of her. “Take a seat.”

You did so, reluctantly, never letting your guard down and her out of your sight.

“Cazador Szarr had many enemies, but he also had many allies. People who were not pleased with his death.”

She now had your undivided attention and you felt your palms sweat.

There wad actually someone going after you? After Astarion?

“I have ways to find who they are.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” you immediately asked, feeling rather unsettled by her words.

She clicked her tongue. “I need assurances first, and I have a proposition to make.”

You saw the flash of a knife emerging from her sleeve and a tall glass container being placed on the table by her side.

TBC

Ao3

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