#he was one of the first people astarion had to betray ;-:

[itmightrain]

The scene with Astarion and Sebastian in Cazador's palace really got me ;-;

[spacebarbarianweird]

My Tav is a tiefling, but I rarely see any tiefling!Tav headcanons or fics 😔 would you have any thoughts about what Astarion would think about the whole tail & horns sitch? 🤭 Also, do you think tieflings wag their tails like some animals do when they're excited??

Hi! Sorry for not responding to your last request; I just had no idea what to do with that prompt. I hope this one will compensate!

Thanks, @astariongf, for your insights on Tieflings!

Astarion x Tiefling!Tav Headcanons

Click for the NSFW version

Masterlist

Headcanons

You and Astarion have a lot in common – people perceive both of you as fiends, making them cautious around you.

Your fangs are even sharper than Astarion's, leading to playful biting sessions where he affectionately calls you his "little devil."

Astarion admits that your spicy blood, though burning his throat, is something he rather enjoys.

He can't taste things; even the finest wine tastes like vinegar, and food resembles paper.

But your spicy blood is an exception, offering him a taste that makes him feel alive.

To attract Astarion's attention, you often wrap your tail around his leg like a rope.

You do the same when you are afraid.

Astarion can easily decipher your emotions by simply sensing your grip.

When danger looms, or Astarion is about to do something reckless, your tail catches his ankle, compelling him to stop.

When happy or aroused, you wag your tail like a dog.

It betrays your true feelings; even if you're angry or giving Astarion the silent treatment, it moves uncontrollably when he smiles or speaks sweetly.

Horns are equally fascinating.

Astarion pays special attention to the sensitive skin where bone meets flesh when massaging your horns, another unique feature.

He jokingly crafts "horn-socks" for you.

"Are you aware that horns don't get cold?"

He isn't,

But you find the "horn socks" cute and cozy, leading you to wear them throughout the winter.

The following winter, he crochets an extra-long sleeve for your tail, which you absolutely love wearing. Along with useless "horn-socks".

Despite initial hesitations due to the language's association with pain, you teach Astarion Infernal language.

It's your mother tongue, after all.

And he feels it's ok to torture you with Sylvan Elven. You have a right to make him speak Infernal.

When seeking attention, you softly bump him with your horns.

Your almost claw-like, sharp, and deadly nails are adored by Astarion.

Tieflings, especially those born into human families, face hate and fear, often hearing curses and insults.

Astarion takes a stand against offenders, pulling out his dagger, forcing apologies, and making them kneel before you.

You were embarrassed by a scared man kneeling before you the first time it happened.

However, you can't deny that you like seeing people who hate Tieflings forced to apologize and beg for mercy.

Damn I rather like writing Astarion with custom race \ class Tav. I will be happy to write headcanons with other character options.

My inbox is open for requests so you can ask for specific headcanons, especially, if you feel like your Tav is ignored by the fandom.

--

Tag list

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @aoirohi @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashrio20 @not-so-lost-after-all @vixstarria @wintersire

[maruzzewrites]

love like you've been hurt.

Astarion reflects upon his growing feelings for Tav/Reader. cw: blood drinking, wrist biting, intrusive thoughts.

“If you need it, you just have to ask.”

A splendid, convenient offer to Astarion. When he was first given the opportunity to drink from their neck, he remembers thinking quick and immediate that the poor fool would be easy to manipulate. If one offers something as precious as their blood to the man who pointed a knife to their throat, before, and tried to sneakily have a bite, after, there is little Astarion can do before taking advantage.

He still remembers the sensation of the skin breaking under the pressure of his sharp fangs, the blood flowing warm and viscous under his lips as he started so suck, lick, and enjoy the flood of life surging all over his body. The blood of an intelligent creature nourishes like nothing else, he learned that night.

In his enjoyment, though, he noticed how they stayed put despite the pain. There were shivers, there was motion, but they never said to stop. It would be so easy to bite off part of their throat and feast on that delicious blood, but Astarion knew that letting that river of good will dry before he could get more wasn’t the most smart of options.

So, that night, he stopped. He thanked. And he promised to feed on animals unless he was offered again.

And he has been, offered again he means.

 Once, he even asked to their so-generous traveling companion why they were so invested in feeding him and how they chose the days. It was mostly a provocation, maybe a way to make them admit to some hidden erotic fantasy that could be his in for his usual manipulation, but they looked at him. They thought for a second, then they simply answered, “When you look a bit weaker.”

That was it, if one had to believe their words. The entire reason for their generosity was something as banal as the person traveling with them, the vampire spawn that was about to bite them in their sleep, was looking a bit weaker and they needed food.

Not even asked. There was always the option to let him continue his animal diet, but they went out of their way, every few nights or so, to offer their neck once more. At first, it was convenient and simply a gesture of a fool that Astarion didn’t mind putting to good use. It betrayed a weak will, in his mind, because there was simply no other reason to let a dangerous predator to take a bite from a lamb and hope it won’t get addicted to the taste.

Eventually, Astarion found his in. They slept together, as he assumed someone like them would.

They detected something off, though. Astarion, perhaps naively, never thought that would be possible. Not with the mask he perfected in two centuries of life. He was sure it was nothing though, and he waved away the thought and the worry by answering their questions with his usual charm. He couldn’t allow himself to show how nude he felt when that mask would slip, because that would imply the kind of vulnerability he wasn’t afforded since he was still alive.

So the night passed.

So this specific night comes.

They offer again. And Astarion cannot wait for the moon to rise and the stars to shine, for the fire to crack besides them as his companion will go to sleep and he can again sink his teeth into tender, alive flesh.

“Darling, you will spoil me rotten like this.” He chuckles at his own words, makes sure to drag his vowels with the usual catty inclination he is used to take with people he needs to seduce. They shake their head, but the faint smile on their face sends a signal to his brain he cannot quite explain. It’s not quite that his heart flutters, but he wishes to see that same face again soon.

It’s an odd sentiment for someone like him, who cannot afford it. It’s a pesky little thing, that will pass, and it’s only because they have been so naively kind to someone like him. Someone who could tear their throat apart with a single swipe of fangs, or perhaps his claws could take hold of their delicate neck and open a passage from which blood could flow freely. But he doesn’t need it, he doesn’t want to think about it that way.

He cannot let the monster inside of him win. He will take what’s enough for his survival and cultivate this relationship for his own gain.

He awaits the night as they travel. The Coast is filled with the unknown and the wonders he has never seen since he has been secluded into a caged life, but he cares not to help those who are not useful to his quest. They, instead, are generous not only with him, but with anyone in need. It’s irritating at times, but he must bite his tongue and put a brave face on so that same kindness won’t be denied to him.

Finally, night falls. The camp is quickly set and everyone tends to their own personal wounds, or they converse among each other, some even argue about useless things. At times he feels like this camp life lacks the spunk it had, like when Shadowheart and Lae’zel almost fought, but he isn’t one to be involved so much that he wants to cause trouble.

He is lucky enough the others didn’t demand his head on a silver plate when his true nature was revealed.

Even they are busy with talking, sitting down by the campfire and entertaining Gale as he babbles about something related to the Weave or magic, as he usually does. There is a lazy, tired kind of smile of their face as they listen on, and Astarion finds himself wishing again to be able to see it more often. It’s not even the desire to be the one to cause it, but just the wish to see them content and unbothered by the chaotic mess their life has become.

It's a thought that lingers even after, for hours until everyone decides to lay down for the night and they are there, leg raised as they watch the sky. Everyone else is fast asleep, but they stay up more than usual. Astarion isn’t sure if they remember the promise, but he waits silently by his tent.

At some point, they close their eyes. He waits a few seconds, until their breath seems to even out, and he sneaks out, slowly. From that night, he has swore to be as silent as a church mouse when he is to drink their blood, and he is sure to keep that promise so that he could stay on their good side. He is cautious to make just the smallest amount of noise as he approaches, but their eyes shoot open anyway and they turn their head to look at him.

He is sure he will be scolded or told he is noisy. But they simply shrug, still laying down, and whisper a simple, “Can’t sleep tonight.”

It such a straightforward answer to a question never posed, but they raise an arm towards him in offering. The other hand come to uncover their wrist, and they speak again, “You can drink from my wrist.”

So they didn’t forget at all. Astarion accepts with a sarcastic, “Don’t mind if I do.”

He comes closer, kneels down near their body and they, at the same time, sit up so they will be at the same height. Less awkward, Astarion agrees, but he can’t help the joke, “You looked so pretty on your back, darling.”

They frown, but here again that small smile that guarantees him there is nothing wrong with what he is saying. They won’t push him away or punish him for a word too much, and maybe that was it all along. Maybe Astarion’s defenses are coming down because there is nothing to fear from someone who is showing their neck to you.

Quite literally too.

Satisfied with that explanation, he takes the arm he is offered in his hands, rests a barely-there kiss on the wrist and lets his fangs grow in size as they sink down. Blood rushes to his mouth, wetting his lips and pooling on his tongue, as he drinks up the rusty flavor with his usual abandonment.

Strangely enough, it’s not the feeling of being sated that joins the hunger tonight. He feels a strange rush of compassion, of tension and just a sprinkle of adrenaline as he continues to suck the blood out of the minute veins in their wrist.

He wonders if this is normal. If blood is supposed to give emotions like this when it comes from someone you have more connection with. What could it be, if they were even closer?

There is a small amount of panic inside his chest, but he cannot stop the thoughts of how sweet and tasty it could be to lure someone and drink up their blood after making them hope for something deeper, after developing feelings and betraying them. Even stepping on his own heart would be worth it.

He stops himself just in time, as he feels his jaw clenching down.

He does his best not to let them see how worked up he is in this exact moment. He knows they would freak out, they would see what he truly is and realize that this whole ordeal isn’t convenient for them. He simply can’t have that, both because he doesn’t mind having someone offering blood and because he doesn’t want to lose their support. The only person whose smile, besides his own, he wants to protect, and he is so close to hurt his chances to even be close to them.

But they don’t freak out. Not in the way Astarion thought. They look down at their wrist, at the blood still falling from the two even, small injuries that dig into their flesh, and then they look at him. With their other hand, they reach out and let the tip of their fingers rest on his cheek, without cupping it completely.

It’s a delicate, intimate gesture. The closest Astarion ever felt to someone, and they are barely touching. They blink and ask, “Are you okay? Do you need a bit more?”

Days ago, Astarion would have grinned and took them up to that offer. Tonight, Astarion truly feels his heart flutter and wants to see them smile up at him, and he doesn’t care that they’re kind to everyone, until they are to him too. Until he is included in that generosity.

“No, thank you. I think I will go rest.”

They blink again. Then, they shrug again and the smile arrives. Small, tired, and the last thing Astarion wants to remember of that night.

[leighsartworks216]

In The Moonlight

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Lowkey wrote this for @niermortem bc the Astarion hyperfixation goes hard

I've never written for Astarion before and I'm still not 100% comfortable with his speech patterns and stuff but I had to write this or I would not be able to sleep tonight. Tbh y'all are lucky he even spoke at all. I was going to have Tav shush him lmao

Warnings: Cazador, mentions of past abuse, mentions of biting, vague implications of sex, like one swear

Word Count: 1,110

Masterlist

AO3

He’s so beautiful, just like this. The moon reaches through the window and caresses his hair, turning already-bright white into pure starlight. His pale skin glows. And when the sun rises and casts beams of yellow-orange over him, it’s almost as if blood flows through him once more.

You cannot sleep. Despite how tired your body was, your mind couldn’t sit still. It pondered over the day’s events - if you made the right choices, what you could have done better, your companions - endlessly spiraling out of sleep’s embrace. And you would still have been going over these questions and concerns, if Astarion did not look so damn pretty.

He fell asleep a while ago. With a gentle kiss to your cheek and a whisper of thanks, he’d tucked one arm under his head and draped the other across your waist, and drifted off. A hint of a smile still lingered there. Creases by his mouth and eyes proving a simple joy that followed him into his dreams.

It felt wrong to watch him like this. Like studying how his curls fell across his forehead and the flicker of his eyes behind his eyelids was in some way betraying his trust. The thought alone - of ruining this beautiful foundation of trust and patience and understanding - should have been enough to have you close your eyes or turn away. And yet, something inside you yearned for more. An ache in your chest that urged you to touch him, to be closer to him.

And the urge was stronger than your perceived guilt.

Slowly, you raised a hand to his face. At first, all you did was brush the curl from his forehead. The stubborn thing only bounced right back.

Your eyes trailed from his hair to his eyebrows. So often did a crease find its way between them, pinched in frustration or confusion. Your hand followed. With the barest brush of your thumb, you smoothed out the imaginary crease. Astarion breathed in deeply - causing you to hold your own - before sighing softly. His face relaxed even more, shoulders easing into the pillows that cushioned him.

You focused next on his eyes. Deep, bloody red irises hidden behind thin lids that held so much worry and uncertainty and joy and hope. Hope. It had taken so long for the vampire to actually be optimistic about the future. He had no idea what would happen next - between Cazador and the tadpoles, there was little to be optimistic about. When you helped him, despite his original plans to manipulate and use you, he realized things did not always have such awful outcomes. Even your first encounter, with his blade to your throat, had somehow brought you here, together and warm and safe.

Despite being an elf, he had such deep bags beneath his eyes. Even the crows feet and laugh lines that appeared with his smile were unusual. He’d told you sparingly about his life under Cazador. The things he fed on, the poem carved into his back, and the horrible things he did. Undoubtedly, the lines came from that time. Barely eating enough to survive, luring people in with his charms for an uncaring master, being tortured in the dark. Yet, you couldn’t imagine Astarion without them. He was so pretty when he smiled.

You move on to his nose and his cheeks. His features are all well defined, sharp. It makes him seem dangerous, even at a first glance. Like a snake, hiding fangs behind shimmering scales.

Beckoned by the analogy, your eyes flicker to his lips. They’re so soft, despite the way he chews his bottom lip. Where before his kisses were rough, demanding, now they’re slow, careful. He no longer kisses you like he has to woo you over and get you to play his game. He kisses you like he’s savoring the last drop of wine. Even his bites are gentler, pricking your neck as carefully as he can unless you ask him nicely to be rougher.

“Too distracted to sleep, are we?”

His voice makes you jolt. You weren’t expecting his lips to move so suddenly. Nor did you realize before how your hand cupped his jaw and your thumb stroked his cheek. You can feel his smile as he chuckles.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, my dear,” he coos. “But don’t you think it’s a bit late to be admiring my features?”

You take a moment to compose yourself, urging your heart to still from the scare. Damn you for thinking so much about his mouth. Astarion is nice enough to wait and listen as you relax once more, though you continue to trace over his skin and brush the curls in front of his ears back.

“I couldn’t sleep. And you look so beautiful in the moonlight.”

He slips his arm from underneath his head as he turns into your hand, holding your wrist in place as he kisses your palm. “I appreciate it, my love. But it’s been a long and exhausting day, and we both need our beauty rest.”

Red eyes watch, half-lidded, as you smile - he loves it just as much as you love his. Before, he couldn’t care less. Now, oh the things he would do to see you happy every waking moment of the rest of your lives.

The blankets shift against each other as you move to be closer. You tuck yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your face into his neck. You are so warm. He lets out a soft breath as he curls around you, protective and safe all at once. Slender fingers tangle carefully into the hair at the nape of your neck, keeping your head tucked away under his chin.

For so long, he charmed and manipulated people. They touched and got close to him, in ways he quickly detached himself from. For so long. It was still difficult to fathom how he sought it out with you. How he did not go through the motions of physical intimacy, how he actually wanted to be physically intimate in more ways than just sexually. How long he’d been deprived of something genuine like this. He wanted to savor every gods-forsaken minute of it.

Your warm breath fanned across his neck as you spoke. Had he been able to, it would have sent a chill down his spine.

“I love you.”

His fingers curl into your waist, grounding himself into your body as your skin gives under his fingertips. In return, you squeeze him in your hold, solidifying even more that this is real. You are real.

“I love you, too, darling.”

[preciouslittlebhaalbabe3]

Thoughts about Ascended Astarion! (This is a long one, and I'm not trying to change anyones opinion, just highlighting the fact that the player is in complete control of the situation at all times. This game is about choices.) First off, I don't usually prefer to ascend him. But I love all versions of Astarion. His character is so well written and all of his arcs deserve praise and attention no matter what your personal opinion of them are. The devs did an incredible job. If any parts of his arc (ascended or spawn) make you uncomfortable, then romancing him isn't for you. If the dynamic between AA and your character makes you feel scared or upset, don't ascend him. That dynamic is supposed to be 100% consentual. He's a tough nut to crack and his story can be very triggering. I myself broke down a few times hearing him talk about what he went through. There are other companions with lovely character development that you can choose. When people go "ugh he's ruined I didn't want this" My dear, with all due respect. This is the dark fantasy romance option. Emphasis on the fantasy. You didn’t get his approval by being nice. It's not like he's the only option. You chose to romance the vampire. The game warns you of what exactly you're about to do multiple times. You willingly help him murder thousands of people for freedom. A vampire who was a literal slave for longer than he was even alive for just got a MASSIVE amount of power. Were you expecting he was gonna just be a good guy now? He has had NOTHING for so long. His entire life trajectory changed within moments. He’s still figuring himself out. You as the player are still completely in charge. He owes everything to you and he knows that. You can walk away at literally any point. He asks you to kneel and obey to establish trust and a dynamic. To confirm this is what you want. YOU CAN SAY NO. Then, he gets right down on the floor with you. He's either gentle or rough based on your choice. If you don't like the vibe just break up with him at that point like he literally lets you do. Or, even just reload the save. But just remember. "That's what you want, isn't it?". When Astarion ascends, Neil says it best. His mask is off and he's allowed to be at his most terrible with no fear. He doesn't have to perform or be aloof as a distraction from the pain anymore. He was never good aligned. But now, he has the power and ability to give himself and his favourite person the life he thinks they wanted. Otherwise why would you ascend him? His love language becomes acts of service and gifts. He ADORES tav to almost obsession. He's always doting on them and calling them his. The ritual only amplifies that. "but what about what he says if you convince him not to go through with it?"

He’s not lying. He knows tav saved him from himself. It is technically the “good” ending. But that’s not what matters here. The ascension is for characters who are not good aligned. It is for characters that are just as much of a power hungry monster as ascended Astarion is. They want to be a monarch that rules the world over. It’s a role playing thing. Is it wrong? That’s for you to decide for yourself. Not others.

"but what about karlach? He's a massive jackass to her when he ascends" ...Yes. He's not a good guy. Karlach is basically the goodest character in the game. It won't work. And if you do break up with him, he lashes out and says some extremely hurtful things. Because you just broke his heart. It's a perfectly normal response from someone being completely blindsided. He thought you wanted this. You said you wanted this. After everything you both did you get here, he feels betrayed. Not even to mention ascended Astarion does not make you just a regular spawn. You quite literally become his vampire spouse. He thanks you for putting your trust in him. Then eventually you become a true vampire with time. He wants to make sure tav doesn't go insane after being turned. If you wanna learn more about vampire spouses in DnD I highly reccomend doing some google searches. It's fascinating. Is ascending him the right thing to do? No, but it's not "wrong". The game doesn't work that way. Is keeping him a spawn the right thing to do? Maybe, if your character thinks it is. Either route has their sets of pros and cons. It's up to you which ones you think work for your playthrough.

I almost always convince him not to go through with the ritual. But ascended Astarion + durge is a power couple and the vibes are immaculate for evil runs. Just have fun with the game! The devs made all these character arcs for you to explore! Thanks for reading <3

[vspin]

Cazador could have been a much more interesting villain.

It's very obvious a lot of Act 3 content was cut just based on lose threads you find throughout the city that kinda lead to nothing.

I think Cazador was one of the biggest disappointments of Act 3. Don't get me wrong, killing him and completing Astarion's arc was an incredibly satisfying and emotional experience. But I think it could have been even better.

If you read the books and notes around his estate, it's obvious they were setting up Cazador as this big-time political player in Baldur's Gate. Astarion even alludes to this earlier in the game (this could have just been Astarion speaking out of fear). Cazador's been in Baldur's Gate a long time and hasn't had the cavalry coming down on him for being a vampire so the man is obviously cunning and has some type of influence.

Some things I would have liked to see concerning Cazador:

Cazador's letter to the other vampire in his sanctum says he was planning a political takeover of the city after his ascension. This wouldn't be possible with Gortash in power.

I think that Cazador should have been a potential ally against Gortsah. Hear me out, yes most likely we as the player could choose to refuse him or betray him later on, but I think it would have been interesting if Cazador approached the player looking to help take out Gortash.

More elaboration on Astarion's background as a Magistrate. More information on the other spawn. Maybe you learn that all of them were people of some type of power and influence and Cazador specifically chose them based on this.

There should have been a proper coronation for Gortash. Not this nonsense above a prison. Have the characters dress up. Meet and greet with the powers of Baldur's Gate. This is where we see Cazador for the first time. (Also, this could have been a cool opportunity to influence and build Wyll as the next potential Grand Duke but that's a whole other topic!)

Give an option to betray Astarion to Cazador in reward for some type of power (I know :( but come on, we can slaughter innocent children, you can't tell me an evil power-hungry character wouldn't rather hedge their bets on a Vampire Lord vs. a spawn)

Make the ascension tied to a specific date/environment event to justify Cazador not immediately taking Asatrion.

Idk this isn't very fleshed out. Just my thoughts on what I think could have made Act 3 stronger . I'm also a sucker for OP Vampire Lords (Castlevania, Strahd) so I really wanted to see that reflected in Cazador instead of this guy who reminded me of an Oblivion NPC.

[fullofbees]

My God's Bane (Astarion x F!Tav)

Tav no longer recognizes herself while Astarion finally comes to terms with his feelings towards her.

AKA I wrote my own leadup to Astarion's confession scene :3

CW: LOTS of angst, religious conflict/crisis, mentions of past physical, emotional, and sexual abuse (Astarion), mild depictions of gore Word Count: 9,437

He liked to think that he had a talent for reading people at this point. Most wear their emotions clearer than they believe. Even when they hide behind a quiet, joyful, or indifferent mask, everyone slips, shows their hand so to speak, and that’s when he strikes. 

However, when it came to the leader of their ragtag band of weirdos, she was easy. She slipped the moment they met, when he cornered her about killing one of those brain creatures outside the nautiloid crash. She all but ran to his supposed rescue, not thinking twice that the man before her could pose harm. It was as simple as breathing back then, to betray that small boundary of trust when he held his blade to her throat. 

Her heart was on her sleeve, and she extended it to every wayward soul they encountered. With remarkable speed, she was able to secure new adventurers for their mission. She made vows to the tieflings and druids alike, intent on restoring order despite the limited time they had. Whether foe or ally, she sought the safety of all involved – such is the way of a valiant paladin. It was an inconvenience, honestly. 

Ever since they arrived at the Shadowlands, though, Tav’s personality changed.  

Their first day in the darkness brought them to battle between the Harpers and their arachnoid escort. The towering bastard had to go and cast Sanctuary constantly, leaving the rest to pick off the weaker cultists until they could find an opening past his defense.  

Tav had swung the final blows, her blade illuminated in a holy light that was nearly blinding against the shadows. The drider fell, and joined his fellow Absolutists as bloody road markers.  

She was an excitable kind of person, cheering and hollering with the smallest of victories, giddy with triumph whenever her enemies fell. Add Karlach into the mix, and Astarion was positive that sleep would evade the camp that night, the two warriors whooping into the night, drunk off wine and adrenaline.  

But, as she had stood over the vanquished drider, Tav was silent. He could not make out the emotion that crossed her face; reverence – or perhaps mourning, as he watched Tav kneel to close each eye the spider possessed.  

Astarion knew he was the only one to witness it. The others were engaged in conversation as the Harpers so graciously invited them to their little hideout, in the form of an abandoned inn. When Tav stood from the ground and turned, she froze upon seeing him standing there, eyes wide with panic as she fumbled for words to say. 

All she managed was a desperate, “Please don’t tell the others.” 

He didn’t understand why, at the time, he had allowed her to place such trust in him.  

The same night, when everyone was gathered around the campfire, joking and sharing stories over whatever meal Gale managed to throw together, she stared into the flames until one of their companions pulled her mind back to the present.  

“An actual drider,” marvels Wyll, “It would have been magnificent if it weren’t so grotesque. Wouldn’t you agree, Tav?” 

“Hmm?” She hummed, eyes transfixed on the bowl in her hands. 

“The drider,” Wyll tried again, almost in disbelief that she had not heard him the first time, “What did you make of it?” 

Her spoon circled the bowl for the umpteenth time, the sound immensely grating to Astarion’s sensitive hearing.  

“Him,” she muttered. 

“I’m sorry?” Wyll asked. 

“What did I make of him? He’s a person, not an ‘it’,” she corrected with a huff of offense. “That poor man...” 

“I wouldn’t go so far as to pity the creature,” admonished Shadowheart, “It is only fitting that one be punished for failing their Goddess. Really, we were doing it a favor.” 

There’s an unwon arrogance that Shadowheart tends to mince her words with. Usually, he would find her quips amusing, but he wished she would have read the obvious tension.  

“He’s not a creature!” Tav slammed the bowl into the dirt in front of her. The metallic clang of the spoon against ceramic rang out into the stunned silence of those around the fire. 

“He was hurting! Desperate to be seen after Lolth’s rejection... and all it got him was a tadpole from another cruel Goddess!” Tav’s hands clenched into fists, brow furrowed as her eyes focused once again on the flames, “He didn’t deserve to die. I could have-- I mean, we could have done more!”  

“I do not understand,” said Lae’zel, “Why do you show such sympathies for the weak?” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” chimes in Karlach, and though Astarion assumed she would start on another lecture about friendship and unity, Tav did not let her finish. 

“I’m afraid I lost my appetite. Good night,” she said, her meal abandoned as she stomped off to her tent.  

Karlach sighed, shaking her head at Lae’zel. The githyanki had not moved, still perplexed by the situation around her. An uneasy quietness quickly descended upon the group, broken only by Wyll bidding them goodnight. A chorus of muttered ‘goodnights’ followed as they began to disperse. 

Considering it an outburst of exhaustion, Astarion left Tav to stew in her tent. He wished he hadn’t, for she was no better the next day. 

It was normal for her to seek their thoughts while exploring. She’d ask Karlach or Lae’zel for tips after combat, banter with Gale and Wyll, show Shadowheart every damn “pretty” flower she found, and insisted on directing as many vampire jokes as she could at Astarion. It didn’t matter how dreadfully unfunny they were, she always laughed.  

Adventuring was quiet now, as she ushered them from place to place, battle to battle, without a break. They found various victims of the curse, most a century old, but some new and with unfortunately familiar faces. It did not matter how long the bodies had been there, Tav grieved each one, tears streaming from her face as she read letters of their last words. While she bawled at their corpses, Astarion brooded, wondering when he had started to miss her laughter.  

She was praying more often as well, sequestering herself alone in whatever corner she could find and frantically whispering. Once, when she ceased her incessant prayer, Tav appeared to be locked in some kind of trance. She did not react to sound or touch, the whole of her eyes overtaken by a ghostly, lavender hue. She stayed that way for two hours.  

Everyone saw the tears that streamed from her eyes when her mind had returned from its journey, but she refused to answer their questions.  

Karlach approached him one night, nearly a tenday after Tav’s original outburst, telling him he needed to figure out what was wrong. He had scoffed at the tiefling; after all, it’s not like he cared about whatever mental issues shared rent with her tadpole. Right? 

“She likes you the most, fangs. If there’s anyone she’s willing to open up to, I'm bettin’ it’s you.” 

He laughed then, loud and boisterous, to hide the rising tide of excitement and anxiety that Karlach’s words had caused.  

“Trying to use me to pry into Tav’s life, are we?” He tsk-ed. Though he smiled, his anxiety had given way to anger. It poked and taunted his deepest fear; that he’s only useful when he can be used. It’s so painfully obvious that’s all he’d ever be, that even sweet Karlach knew it.  

But something besides the tadpole lurked around in his mind; why does he feel bad about tricking Tav? That is his whole plan, is it not? Use the strong sword-wielding lady to safely travel back to Baldur’s Gate, she dices this stupid cult and Cazador into pieces, and then he dumps her, finally free from any master’s grip.  

He banished the intruding thought instantly, bottled it as deep as it could go, for the looming answer to his question threatened to make him sick. He is undead, a creature of the night, an external parasite that feeds on Tav at night until he can find someone, something, better. His skin is cold as ice and his heart no longer beats. He has no heart to give; or so he tells himself. 

“You know that’s not the case,” Karlach had chastised, seemingly offended he could suggest such a thing, “We’re all worried. You can pretend all you want, but I know you are too. You can help her, Astarion.” 

Now that was a curious sentiment. ‘Help’ is numerous in its contexts; Cazador certainly considered himself helpful, merciful even, as he watched his new spawn vomit blood and dirt after clawing out of their tombs. The word implies a give and take, and the world is far more eager to collect than it is to provide.  

To put it plainly, he had nothing to offer their melancholic leader; he is nothing and has been for a long time. Still, Karlach had come to him, apparently unaware of his obvious lack. Perhaps he should hear her out. Perhaps she saw something in him.  

“And just how should I ‘help’?” Astarion asked, condescendingly drawling the question out, rolling his eyes for good measure.  

He saw how the edge of Karlach’s lips twitched, how her eyes narrowed, the way her mechanical heart roared to life with a bright spark before settling back into quiet embers. In poetic irony, it seems that he burned her.  

“Hells below, Astarion,” she nearly yelled, exasperated, tired, and practically begging him to cooperate. He doesn’t blame her for the outburst. Without the annoyingly bubbly attitude of Tav, the tension between party members had been amplified and pulled taut. They all may very well snap soon.  

“I’ll see what I can do,” he dismissed her then, attention focused back on the tome he had in his hands. But his mind did not process the words on the page. He reread the same line damn near ten times before he gave up and went to bed instead. 

His rest was anything but; it was fitful and full of sorrow.  

It was times like then when he wished he could slumber like every other living creature. When his victims and fellow spawn would speak of nightmares, they told tales of distorted visions and intense fear. His waking hours were already plagued with such issues, he could easily handle the nightmares. But no, instead he was cursed to revel in his own pain during his meditative rest, reliving and experiencing his own terrifying truths on repeat.  

That night, he tried searching for something he could do for Tav. Something that the others could not; something to prove his value to her. He did find it. It didn’t take him long at all.  

All he had to offer his little troublesome Tav was his body.  

And it broke him.  

He spent that night with the realization that this is who he is and always will be. A body to be used and used and used and used and used and used and used and u s e d....... 

Thankfully, Tav had asked him to stay at camp that morning. Even though he teased her with his usual, “Darling, I thought we had something special,” she could barely manage a smile, and muttered her thanks before flittering about camp in preparation.  

It was probably for the best, knowing how useless he would have been with that morose epiphany swimming in his mind. Though awake, the uneasy feeling from the night did not dissipate. His emotions were all over the place, that much he was sure of, but they had always been identifiable. Agony, desperation, emptiness.  

Now new and uncertain feelings – gods how he detested the word – seized his chest. Images of Tav pestered him the entire day; the bags under her eyes, the unkempt hair, the dying light of her spirit. Karlach was right, he was worried.  

Still, he could not find the source of his worry. He’d spent the last 200 years surrounded by shambling corpses and their victims alike. They slept like dogs, were beaten like beasts, so really, who was he to judge for a bad hair day?  

Astarion saw no use driving himself mad about it, after all, he had always warned her that her heroism couldn’t last forever. He spent that day doing what he does best when he finds himself without her company, distracting himself with enough shit wine and even shittier books. He didn’t think his tolerance would be shit too. 

Words had soon blurred together, and despite the book’s distinct lack of arcane knowledge, the letters seemed to arrange themselves in puzzles. He slammed the tome shut, opting to sit in the privacy of his tent and will away his growing headache. While his thoughts were no less jumbled, the feelings from before were becoming clearer.  

Worry; The presence of the undead made it impossible for him to feed on anyone other than Tav. Even though she always assured him that she did not mind, he felt like he was using her, and for the first time in a long time, he felt bad about being such a devious bastard. 

Rejection; He’d never tell, but the absence of Tav returning his superficial flirtations left him feeling empty. He tries to tell himself that it isn’t him, it isn’t his fault, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less to not have her affection. 

Fear; He would give his body to her, if it would make her happy. Thousands before her had found pleasure in him, it would be easy for him to allow her the same. He wanted to believe that he’d be selfless, place her needs and comfort above his own; but he knew he could not. He is selfish. Could she want a selfish man? 

It dawned on him then, what this cocktail of vulnerability and yearning was. The cause of his worry, the source of his comfort, the reason he felt like an idiot. He lov- 

The party had arrived back at camp, and he had stumbled to his feet to meet them, for how would it look if their charming vampire companion was found sulking and brooding in his tent. Karlach immediately shed her armor, talking about how stuffy it felt to be metal-clad. Gale carried a sack with the night’s dinner ingredients in hand and grumbled about the pain in his knees as he knelt to light the fire. Lae’zel, despite her stoicism, appeared happy, covered head to toe in the blood of the fallen. 

Tav looked no worse than she had for these last few days, and that ought to count for something. He watched as she removed the outer pieces of her armor, wincing when the harsh edges dug into new and old bruises alike. She picked up a rag and a small mirror, wiping away the blood from the cuts on her face.  

The sight of the crimson spilling from her skin reminded him of his hunger. Their quid pro quo arrangement had been forgotten in her despair, and he was desperate at this point for anything she would give him. Blood, sex, shallow praise, whatever she had to offer.  

Oh, right. 

He had yet to offer himself again, so what reason would she have to keep up her end of the deal? 

He downs the last of the wine in his goblet, swallowing the intoxicating substance just as the reality of his situation swallows his hope. With measured steps, he approached her tent, taking quiet yet deep breaths to ease the misery he felt knowing he’ll never be more than this. He opened his mouth to call her name, but Tav released the ties holding back the rainfly of her tent and shut them all out. 

That should have been it, but his drunken mind reminded him of his promise to Karlach, and his predatorial hunger lurched at the idea of another night unsatiated.  

Once the others were asleep, Astarion snuck into her tent, part and parcel to their routine since she first discovered his true nature. It was easier for him when she was asleep, not that the sharp pinch of his fangs left her totally undisturbed; but to approach while she was awake only guaranteed in his mind that he would end up on his back again.  

Tav was facing away from him, lying on her side, a formerly white linen sheet covered her sleeping form. Nothing was amiss as he had stalked closer, brushing the strands of hair away from her neck, his mouth unbelievably dry. He knelt, the perfume of her blood wafting sweetly from beneath her skin, as he placed his hand on her shoulder to steady himself.  

She awoke then, the force of her sitting so abruptly pushed him back and sent him stumbling. He had, thankfully, caught himself with his hand before falling into the dirt. Still, he was equal parts annoyed at dinner being interrupted and worried that he was caught.  

“Hells, Astarion, you scared the shit out of me,” she whispered. 

“And you almost broke my nose,” he chastised; not a total lie, but an exaggerated one, nonetheless.  

Tav rolled her eyes at him before letting herself fall back against her bedroll again, “Oh, you poor thing, want me to kiss it better?” 

At least she appeared to be feeling better, back to the self that loved teasing him.  

“If you’re offering, who am I to say no to the hand that feeds?”   

Upon realizing that he would not be allowed to dine and dash, Astarion straddled her thighs, ready to bargain for what he needed. He let his hand rest on her hip, soothing circles through the fabric of her nightwear.  

“Yea, s’pose you can’t say you won’t bite,” she said through a drowsy laugh. 

He allowed his hand to wander then, down the inside of her thigh, fingers trailing along the seam of her pants, “As if the lady would protest my bites.” 

With a kiss pressed to her lips, Astarion silenced any innuendo or proposition she may have made. He did not want to hear it, could not stand the idea of her confirming all the horrid things he thought about himself.  

This unspoken deal only served to remind him of how temporary freedom would be. At worst, he would return to Cazador, and the bastard would tell him how lucky he should feel, how there were other mortals dying to be in his position. He wished he could tell him that adding an ‘s’ before ‘pawn’ doesn’t make being a puppet any more lucrative.  

She promised that she would not let that happen. She promised to free him from his master’s chains, but what comes after? He would still be bound to the night, doomed to prowl moonlit streets for an eternity. Killing would still be his status quo, whether mammal or mortal, in order to satiate his hunger.  

Would she stay with such a monster? 

Thoughts he did not want to entertain had barged to the forefront of his mind again, and he knew he needed to move this along. At least with sex, he could force those thoughts away, bottle them back up, and allow his body to numb. At least, this way, he survived another day. At least her body is warm. 

At least—anything he can say to himself to justify another night on his back and to ignore the resentment building in his heart. 

Her lips had parted in a moan, and his tongue quickly lay claim to her mouth, as his hand finally cupped her sex. She gasped, and as his mind had started to drift off into the numb void, he had been pulled back by the feeling of her hand pushing against his chest. 

When he separated himself from her body, Astarion wanted to scream, wanted to shake her; why did she insist on taking the lead? It would be easy with him on top; he wouldn’t have to look at her, to feel her weight on top of him. Must she be so difficult? 

“I don’t want to have sex tonight.” 

What-- 

He looked down at her then, saw the flush in her face, felt how her hands fiddled with the ruffled collar of his shirt but harbored no intention to remove the clothing.  

“I’m not really in the right headspace for that,” she explained, “Plus, I can taste the wine on your lips...” 

“Right, well...” He didn’t know what to say.  

Astarion was frozen above her, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Awkwardness had settled over them both, each one terrified of scaring the other off should they move or speak. Until, the dots connect in her head and she practically launched herself upright, almost smacking herself into him again. 

“You haven’t fed since we got here, have you? Shit, I’m sorry!” She said as she pulled her hair to the side, exposing the column of her neck.  

Any other time, he might have shoved her away, storming out of her tent as his hunger gave way to the embarrassment of it all, his crumbling ego unable to cope. But as she all but dragged his mouth to her skin, urging him to drink, Astarion was thankful that her care outweighed his own pride. 

His fangs pierced her flesh, and she hissed at the pain, but did not complain further.  

He recalled the conversation they had about what their friends would taste like, debating over who would be sweet and who would be savory. Once he had mused that she would be bland, only if to rile her up, but the depth of her lifeblood had truly surprised him.  

She is a winter’s mulled wine, deceptively simple at first yet brimming with spice as she settles on his tongue. Hints of citrus tease his palate, the last taste of summer’s sweetness yielding to the zest of cinnamon and clove. It was gone as soon as it came, leaving its enjoyer to eagerly await the next mouthful.   

As he drank from her, he had felt the echo of a memory in his chest, of his younger days scribbling away next to a hearth, of a man who made his heart flutter and his skin burn with want. The man’s face remains obscured, buried under years of torment, but the feeling is there; the rush of something new and exciting; the naivety of first love. 

With wild hair and soft eyes that regarded him as if he held the entire world, the elf below him had unearthed a humanity he’d long since forgotten. What a wondrous feeling it was; to release all that had been brimming beneath the surface, to give names to the shadows, to feel again.  

Again, her hand pushed against his chest, weaker than before as she mumbles, “O-Okay, I’m starting to get dizzy.” 

His fangs retreated from her skin, and as his lips captured any wayward drops, he realized he did not wish to completely part in that moment. Gently, he laid her down against her bedroll, back on her side. He situated himself behind her, basking in the newfound heat that flowed through his veins, and allowed his breath to even out. Tav was already fast asleep when he turned, wrapping his arm around her and cuddled her to his chest. 

...  

Astarion had made sure to return to his own tent before dawn broke and if Tav had noticed the vampire snuggling her in the night, he was eternally grateful for her silence on it in the morning. He did not want to hear the insufferable taunts and jokes the others would make if the two of them were discovered together. Gale or Wyll, hells, probably even Karlach, would remind him that it’s only natural for two adults to seek out company between their giggles; as if he’s a little boy who's embarrassed about his crush.  

But that is what he is, isn’t he? He’s tucking tail and scurrying away because he’s afraid of others seeing that he is capable of feeling. Brazen displays of emotion, especially ones of love, are signs of a weakness to be exploited. Everything he had ever loved had been taken from him, had been hurt because of him. He could love her, he wants to love her, but it would just be placing a target on her back. Another one of Cazador’s endless lessons.  

She is safer this way.  

For what it’s worth, Tav did appear livelier that morning, bantering with Shadowheart as the cleric healed their bloodless leader, and it earned him a thankful pat on the back from Karlach. 

“Ah, I love the taste of Lesser Restoration in the morning,” Tav hummed happily, arms raised above her head as she stretched the sleep out of her body. 

“I don’t know why you insist on coming to me,” said Shadowheart, “You’re the one who chose to be a walking blood bank, and I know Paladins can cast Lesser Restoration. Why don’t you heal yourself instead of making it my problem?” 

“Because you’re always so charming,” Tav teased, “How do you expect me to resist?” 

“Kicking and screaming, I hope,” deadpanned the cleric. 

“See what I mean? Our own little ray of sunshine!”  

After breakfast, Tav assembled that day’s crew. The idea of a day of physical labor after last night's mental exhaustion made Astarion less than eager to accept her invitation. Still, he had said yes, and donned his armor as he made a quiet vow to himself.

He will always keep her safe in one way or another.  

The day’s mission had involved infiltrating the House of Healing to find something that could be used on this Art Cullagh fellow. Astarion had accepted, by this point, to not concern himself with the details and just assist Tav with whatever heroics she found herself agreeing to. They would happen with or without him.  

The exterior yielded nothing of value, except one half of a pair of warding rings Tav found on the skeleton of another victim. She was somber as she pocketed the ring and read the lover’s note, but composed herself afterwards, and said a small prayer before pushing forward. He had felt some level of pride and admiration, watching as a new strength kindled inside her. There was inflation to his ego as well, a selfish joy in thinking that his mere cuddles could fix her woes. 

He should have known better. Life had never been kind. 

They had entered the House of Healing through an antechamber that reeked of decay and spoiled blood. Infirmary beds were strewn about, and of the few that weren’t outright destroyed or flipped over, they looked less than pleasing without a mattress to cover the rusted springs. Rotting towels, shattered wash basins, and an unknown film covered the floors. Voices echoed from the main chamber ahead, so each step further in was made cautiously. 

They passed through a door to their right and discovered what used to be a woman as she floated before two of the beds, covered in nurses' attire that clearly didn’t know the definition of sterile. She - no, it - paid them no mind as they had approached, gazing down at the implements and bandages before it as if it couldn’t figure out what to do.  

With her hand on the hilt of her sword, Tav spoke first, “Excuse me, ma’am?” 

“Don’t call the doctor yet!” came the soft plea of the creature, “I’ve got potions, sutures - I know I can do this...” It turned to address their fellow nurse, yet startled when it saw the Paladin, “Oh! You’re a patient. This is the children’s ward – triage is back that way.” 

“I have something else I’d like to ask you,” Tav started, but her words faded off as she looked beyond the nurse in front of her.  

Two bodies laid still on the beds, clearly dead, though it was hard to tell if it was from the Shadow Curse or the nurse’s ‘treatment’. 

In an instant, Tav drew her sword, resting the blade in a tail stance, voice low with anger as she asked, “What are you doing with the dead?” 

The nurse regarded her with confusion as she replied, “Not dead, merely medicated. To ease the pain.”  

Tav raised her sword, now bracing her weight in a plow stance, the tip of her blade dangerously close to the nurse’s abdomen, as she snarled, “I asked you a question, creature! What are you doing with the dead?” 

Astarion had watched Tav face countless foes since their adventure together began. Even with the most wicked, she had never been so blatantly offensive. In hindsight, he realized that all those foes had been alive; fought them she must, but always done so reluctantly, and always ready to spare a life when able. There, in the House of Healing, did he first witness her true devotion as a Doomguide.  

Of course, she had told the group of her deity; was overbearingly eager to share it, in fact. Kelemvor; Judge of the Damned; whose symbol featured a skeletal hand raising balanced scales. Tav wears it on her chest – darkened purple stitched into a solid black surcoat that she dons no matter the armor underneath. She told them the stories of her years as a lone wanderer, proselytizing Kelemvor’s wisdom, performing last rites for the dying, and destroying necromancers.  

She was a protector of the living, and a slayer of the undead. 

The creature did not answer her question, insisting that the patients were sleeping and to be quiet lest they wake. The last words the creature heard were Tav’s whispered, “In Kelemvor’s name,” before the blade was plunged clean through its body. It collapsed to the floor, trying to speak, but the blood pooling in its throat only allowed for senseless gurgling.  

Tav placed her foot on the corpse and pushed it into the heap of flesh as she withdrew her blade. Thick, blackened blood congealed on the metal, and Tav held it in a white-knuckled grip as she stepped over the body and towards the beds. 

She took one glance and immediately turned around, tripping on the creature's body as she rushed out of the vestibule, landing on her hands and knees, as her sword skidded across the floor. She did not rise, instead sinking to her elbows as her hands pulled at her hair to the point that Astarion thought she might rip it out.   

Karlach rushed to her side, trying to ease the Paladin up as hushed sobs echoed off the walls.  

“Hey now, soldier,” said the tiefling, taking hold of Tav’s biceps and urging her to sit up, “Don’t go getting soft on me.” 

Shadowheart bypassed the two and peered into the beds before gasping, “It’s Arabella’s parents.” 

Another choked cry broke out from Tav as she finally sat back on her haunches, rubbing away her tears with a grubby hand, “I fucking hate this place.” 

“We all do,” assured Karlach, “But we gotta keep moving forward; don’t want to have worms forever, do we?” 

“No,” came Tav’s hushed response before she stood to her feet. She picked up her sword from the floor, flicking some of the blood off, “Let’s just get this over with.” 

Malleus Thorm was an abhorrent sight. Deciding to take the lead after Tav’s second outburst, Karlach interrogated the cursed doctor about his peculiar treatment plan. He spoke of Shar, of darkness, of absence. The victim strapped to the table was catatonic from the aimless carving of the nurses’ blades, though he was soon comatose after the doctor’s mechanical claws dug into his eyes. 

Tav was antsy behind her, shifting on her feet, practically chomping at the bit to send the undead man back into oblivion. The battle was difficult, but well won. Tav’s anger and adrenaline combined with Divine Smite proved a lethal combo.  

Shadowheart pulled a lute from the corpse of Malleus and held it out to Tav, “I think you might want this.”  

Tav took the lute, strapped it to her back and made way for the exit. Despite the exhaustion they all felt and the rush of emotions Tav must have experienced, she stayed silent. No cries, no curses, not one tear to be found. Astarion felt that agonizing mix of worry and sorrow creep around him. 

He increased his pace until he was able to fall in line with her, their other party members straggling not far behind.  

“Are you alright, darling?” He asked quietly, still not quite ready for his care to be announced to the world. 

She only nodded. 

...  

If he thought their adventures had been quiet before, they were dead silent now. Every fight with another Thorm family member pushed Tav further into despair. Any attempts by their companions to make her smile or laugh were futile. She walked and fought like a zombie, resulting in her near-death numerous times. Lectures about how she needed to mind herself went in one pointed ear and out the other, apparently.

Her silence was only broken by the fits of sobbing that occurred from her tent each night. If she managed to fall into her meditative state, it would end with her lurching forward, gasping for air as she scrambled off into the corner of camp to empty the contents of her stomach. 

Karlach had to take over as temporary leader, and if she had her way, Tav would’ve stayed behind. Yet, when the Paladin appeared every morning with her armor and sword ready, the tiefling couldn’t find the strength to not let her tag along.  

Astarion also insisted that he be allowed on each mission, even if his skills weren’t useful for their goal. For whatever reason, Tav listened to him more than the others, and would only accept his help when she found herself injured. He had to be there for her, even if watching her suffer wore away at his own sanity. He often found himself looking at the warding ring she had silently given him after their fight with Malleus, and wondered if he would ever hear her laugh again.  

Bones, blood, and viscera decorated the entrance hall. The gore was mundane to him, no more unique than a cobblestone street or tavern lights in the dark. The dank and forebodingness of the crypt did not stop him from admiring its beauty. The ruins must have been a marvelous sight in their heyday, brimming with the Lady of Loss’s worshippers as they sought to drown out their sorrow and begged for her guidance amongst the crystalline decor. 

Their group split to investigate the various rooms that surrounded the concourse, with him following behind Tav as she investigated the nook to the right. Through the towering archway, he saw that it was no more than a chamber, perhaps used as foyer for those who came to grieve the Thorm family. More bones were littered across its floor and piled in its corners. He saw nothing novel, yet Tav stopped stock still.  

“Myrkul...”, she had hissed with disgust, hands clenched into fists that shook in splintering rage. 

Peeking over her shoulder, he saw the triangle of femurs that had been constructed in front of the dilapidated desk, a skull perched neatly in the middle. He joined her at her side, casual when he had faced her and asked carelessly, “Who?” 

Truthfully, the name and symbol were of no interest to him; a forgotten name from a bygone era, and most importantly, a deity that had ignored his prayers. She looked up to him then, and the dusty air must have been getting to him, because he swore her gaze softened when their eyes met. 

“Myrkul Bey al-Kursi, a necromancer and prince who ascended to godhood when Jergal willingly parted with his title,” Gale interrupted just as Tav was about to speak. 

Astarion rolled his eyes at the wizard and resisted the urge to pettily stomp his foot against the floor. His look was not enough to kill, but it did have Gale surrendering, hands up in a wordless apology as he had backed away from the two. 

“Correct,” Tav said, breaking the tension she didn’t know had occurred, “He was usurped by Cyric, but the Prince of Lies was defeated by Kelemvor.” 

Astarion was desperate to keep her talking. He’d listen to an entire history lecture if it meant she’d come back to sound mind. Back to him. “What use would a servant of Myrkul have with some Sharran shrine?” 

“It doesn’t matter what ‘use’ they have for it,” admonished Shadowheart, “Lady Shar has decreed that Ketheric must die for his betrayal, and ridding her temple of other disgraces in the process is as much a bonus as it is an honor.” 

Listening to the cleric’s devotion was uninteresting at best, and torturous at worst. He almost pitied the poor girl, blindly following a goddess out of fear of what her memories might hold. 

Astarion had expected Tav to mirror Shadowheart’s enthusiasm, but instead saw her bristle, hands wringing together nervously. She was unrecognizable to him, the proud warrior now hunched in on herself as she gnawed at her bottom lip. Anxiety was radiating off her in waves; she looked like she might vomit. 

His body had moved before he had realized what he was doing, hand reaching for her shoulder to comfort her. When his cool skin had made contact with her chainmail, she recoiled, eyes wide and breath unsteady. Hurt by her reaction, he let his hand fall limply to his side, and gruffly announced that the party should keep moving. 

His patience wore thin as they descended into the abyss below the mausoleum. Gale and Shadowheart both wouldn’t shut up about the various magical auras they were picking up on. Sensing Shar’s presence in the Temple of Shar? Who could have guessed the dark goddess would have been there? Bloody amateurs. 

Tav nearly fell in battle again against the Dark Justiciars that were forever cursed to protect the temple. She was unfocused and reckless, and the shadows had swarmed her after making quick work of the necromancer’s lackeys. To make matters worse, there was still no sign of the devil Raphael had tasked them with killing. There were hundreds of rats, though, and the sight of them left a bad taste in his mouth. 

With some convincing from both he and Gale, Tav finally acquiesced and agreed to return to camp for the evening. Night had developed a new, uncomfortably familar cycle by then, with Tav disappearing to her tent before anyone could say anything to her. She would eat her dinner alone. He would pretend he didn’t hear her crying throughout the night. 

They found Balthazar the next day, and it was the first time he ever saw pure hatred burning behind her eyes. They barely survived, the undead necromancer’s poison draining their strength while his ghouls beat them with decayed teeth and talons. When the bastard finally fell, Tav stood over his corpse, whispered a prayer, and then carved her blade through the fat of his neck. She stabbed her sword repeatedly into his chest, moving down his torso until he was no longer recognizable; just a pile of oozing sinew and flesh. His hulking, sewn-together abomination was the next target of her wrath, and it too was reduced to a pool of guts and blood. 

It was not enough. 

She destroyed the furniture, set the bookshelves ablaze, tore down everything the necromancer kept in his makeshift laboratory. The rest of the party removed themselves from the room, watching silently from the threshold as their near-death leader found the strength to take all of Balthazar’s worldly possessions with her. 

It would have been sexy as hell if it weren’t so concerning. 

She eventually collapsed, falling to her knees, sword clattering to the ground with a metallic clang echoing around the room. Silence followed; stares were exchanged between Astarion and his fellow compatriots, each one wordlessly asking the other what the hell had just happened. 

Tired of walking on eggshells, of not doing something, Astarion walked over to Tav and kneeled in front of her. She didn’t notice him at first, eyes shut tight and chest heaving with labored breaths. He reached out again, placing his hand on her knee. 

She was startled, but didn’t move away like before. Instead, her bloodied hand covered his own, fingers tracing over his knuckles, inadvertently smearing the crimson against his pale skin. When he suggested they retire to camp early, she finally, finally, met his gaze. Glimmering violet swirled in her irises, no doubt the remnants of whatever magic she called on Kelemvor for. It faded away, leaving him with the woman of his adoration, looking broken and lost. 

Clinging to his armor, she staggered to her feet, yet nearly toppled again when she went to pick up her sword. It was instinct really, for him to grab her waist and to keep her upright. He certainly had held her hips in more lascivious situations, but somehow he felt more naked that time. 

Vulnerable. 

He doesn’t think he can keep this a secret any longer. 

… 

This last tenday has been punishing, and Astarion carries its weight with him as he searches the encampment for his wayward paramour. 

He finds her on the staggered rock where they helped Halsin rescue Thaniel, staring out into the darkness. Her posture is relaxed as she leans back on her arms, legs dangling off the edge where the water beats on the stone below. 

The silt crunches softly beneath his boots, and he knows she has heard him approach when her ear twitches. He settles himself beside her, brushing off any stray granules from his armor with a huff of disgust. She giggles. 

It must look comical, how quickly his head snaps up at the sound, searching her face for signs of madness. After how despondent she’s been, he expects to find a vessel, a hollow being with the residue of what was a soul, begging to be let go. 

Instead, he finds her kind smile, as she now swipes away the remaining dirt from his calf, “Not a fan of sand, I take it?” 

For all his prose, there is no poetry, no song, no prayer that could mimic the joy he feels when she teases him. He’s been drowning, his mood anchored to hers, and now she has yanked him from the abyss once again. Is this the feeling all those bards crooned about? That every two-bit novelist dreamed of capturing? 

He had long given up on such fantasies, convinced himself that the very notion of love made him sick. 

Love. 

There’s no use pretending anymore. It is love that he feels for Tav. It’s why he mopes at the end of the night if she dares to speak to him last; perhaps the tad murderous feeling he gets when he sees her acting too chummy with the wizard. It’s the comfort of knowing someone has his back, the safety of her sword shielding him from attack, the promises of freedom sleepily whispered between lips in the night. She is the first breath taken when he surfaces. The sun pales in comparison to the warmth in her touch, though she is just as apt to kiss his cheeks. 

She is back and gods, how he missed her. 

Gods, how he loves her. 

“No, I don’t,” he responds in his bantering tone, “It’s rough... irritating... and it gets bloody everywhere.” 

She hums in agreement, gaze falling to the ground before returning to the river. Silence befalls them again, and he finds himself clamoring for words. He wants to confess his love, sing her praises, ask her what the hell is wrong with her. Anything to fill the silence, he refuses to live in the saturnine hellscape that has been the last week any longer. 

“Astarion,” she beats him to it, “I want to apologize for my behavior these last few days. I put everyone at risk and going forward I’ll be sure to keep everything in check. Can’t have everyone dying because of incompetency.” 

A bit too diplomatic for his liking, and her laughter is much too forced. He’ll need to teach her some proper acting; it’s a miracle she’s survived as long as she has with that disaster of a performance. Aren’t paladins supposed to be charismatic, or is it the weapon that does most of the talking? 

“Oh, you were in a bad mood? I hardly noticed,” he states with all the indifference he can muster. 

She leans into him to playfully jab her elbow into his side, muttering expletives in an elven dialect he hasn’t heard in ages. 

“Seriously, I’m sorry if I made you worry.” 

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” he rushes out, hand idly scratching the back of his neck. 

The tension returns, though not as overbearing as before, as questions remain unasked and feelings unshared. It’s a bitter push, as neither is used to talking about their depths, and he doesn’t want to pry; yet a sweet pull, as he remains at her side, wishing for the awkwardness to dissipate. 

“It’s just...” She begins, and though she faces forward, he catches her sneaking looks at him in her peripheral, “There’s so much going on, I don’t know where to start.” 

If he had any blood in his body, he’s sure it’d be racing, his heart thumping wildly in tandem. He thinks she’s ready to talk, and that is half the issue. He thinks, but he doesn’t know; it terrifies and thrills him all the same. He wants to know her – aches for it, if he’s being honest. 

But he is terrified, so sure that he’s going to fuck up and ruin the one good thing he’s had in two hundred years. If she rejects him now, shuts him out for good, he’s not sure he can take it. 

This was supposed to be easy; she was supposed to be easy. 

“It doesn’t matter where you start, I’ll be here for the end.” Shit, shit, SHIT. 

“Astarion,” she gasps, hand over her heart, his name melting into a laugh, “That was actually smooth.” 

He tsks, “I take offense to that. I’ve always been smooth, you’re just too brutish to notice.” 

She laughs again, shaking her head as an enamored smile graces her lips. Her hand brushes stray locks of hair behind her pointed ear and even in the dim glow of the inn’s spell, he can see a blush staining her cheeks. 

But then, she sighs, slow and tired as her fingers soothe circles into her temples, “Can you keep a secret for me?” 

It’s what he’s been pining for, offered on a silver platter, and how could he not say yes. 

He raises his hand to his chest, drawing an ‘x’ over his armor, “Cross my heart and hope to—uh, well, you know.” 

Another chuckle escapes her lips as she adjusts her position, angling herself towards him. 

She swallows thickly before continuing, “Well, I uh—I talked to Kelemvor.” 

“Is that not par for the course for you Doomguides?” He asks incredulously, eyebrow raised and head tilting as he chuckles. 

This time, she does not grant him a smile or a laugh, focused on picking at her cuticles and the dirt under her nails. 

“I haven’t spoken to him since the nautiloid, I figured the tadpole was interfering,” she says hushed, shame and guilt on the edges of her voice. “I was preparing myself for the worst, but what I got was an impossibility.” 

What kind of cryptic bullsh-- She’s been hanging around Withers too much. 

Hundreds of possibilities race through his mind. What he knows of Kelemvor is only from what she has shared; while he did not seem to be a vengeful god, they already have one person burdened with a suicide mission. He could live without the blabbersome wizard, but her? 

He should have known the universe would only offer him misery, to dangle a sweet treat before him and rip it all away before he had the chance to savor it. 

“Did he ask you to sacrifice yourself?” He wants to hear it from her, needs to hear her say those dreaded words so he can make peace before she is nothing more than bones and fading memories. 

Her eyes find his, inflamed with tears she no longer has the strength to shed, “I wish he did.” 

The pain, the anger, the grief of the last few days resurfaces in her voice, that flare of purple sparking in her irises. Astarion does not often find himself shocked, but the callous and tempestuous storm raging beneath her skin leaves him speechless. Instincts tell him he is witnessing only a fraction of her fury. 

Then it ebbs, retreating like the tide, as she takes a deep breath to steady herself. 

“I’ve been having doubts, about my purpose, about this path I chose. I expected Kelemvor to berate me for lacking faith.” 

Her hands go back to tearing at her cuticles. 

“He by no means praised me, but he wasn’t furious, either. He didn’t seem like himself... He didn’t even look like himself. It was as if his passion was gone. I asked him what I should do, and he told me that only I can determine my future.” 

“So? What’s wrong with that?” He was genuinely confused by her demeanor. Self-determination, autonomy, freedom; all the things she promised to help him find and keep, yet she fears them for herself. 

“Kelemvor has been a part of my life since I was a teenager, I’ve devoted myself to him for the better part of two centuries. I don’t-- I don’t know who I am without him.” 

A kindred spirit. 

She clenches her jaw, letting out a frustrated huff, “What am I supposed to do? I can’t stay a Doomguide to a god who abandoned his own principles!” 

He knows she is bleeding from her nail beds, the lovely scent of spiced wine in the air.  

“I took an oath of devotion, to be honorable, compassionate, and honest. I do not fear death of myself nor my loved ones, for death is not something to be afraid of. It is not something one must seek, but it is what one should embrace should it find you,” She explains, “For the last two hundred and fifty-six years, Kelemvor would remind me of these tenets, and commend me for every valiant foe I slaughtered in their image.” 

As sweet as the fragrance is, he takes her hands in his; they have seen and caused enough damage for the time being. 

“And Kelemvor just... doesn’t care anymore. Every time we saw some poor undead creature cursed by Shar, I was reminded of how he dismissed me, like I was a fool for ever following him in the first place. I was his valiant hero, one his most beloved Paladins, and now what? I’m nothing.” 

“You are not nothing,” he replies in an instant, “You are everything. You don't need Kelemvor to be honorable or compassionate, because you already are those things. He was lucky to have someone as devoted as you, but if he wants to toss you aside, then good riddance; it’s his loss, and everyone else’s gain.” 

Crimson floods her cheeks again, as she stares at him dumbfounded. He fidgets in the momentary silence, the feeling of actually sharing one's feeling still mildly uncomfortable. But then it dissipates, because she smiles at him and brings their clasped hands to rest over her heart. Its beat is comforting. 

“Thanks, Astarion. I don’t know what I would have done without you these last few weeks.”  

“Someone had to keep you alive. I know I said you would make a pretty corpse, but that doesn’t mean I’m eager to see it, darling.” 

“I’m sure Shadowheart would let you have a nibble if I passed,” she says with a laugh. 

“Perhaps, but I don’t think she could compare.” 

The steady rhythm of her heart increases under his hands. She adjusts herself again, scooting closer to him so that she can lean her head against his shoulder. Her eyes close as she relaxes into him, and he feels so relieved at knowing her touch could be so intimate yet still so gentle. 

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand, Tav,” He says, his thumb softly tracing along her knuckles, “Why were you having doubts in the first place?” 

“Oh! Um...” She says, head lifting from his shoulder, “It’s so embarrassing, don’t worry about it.” 

“Don’t you dare hold out on me now,” He pleads as he slings his arm across her back, hand resting on her hip and pulling her in close so he can whisper, “Especially when it comes to gossip!”  

Sagging against his side, she groans out, “You are the wooooorst.” 

He raises his hand to his face, making a dramatic show of clearing his throat before uttering a very sickly sweet, “Please?” 

“Okay, fine,” she huffs before grumbling out something unintelligible. 

“What was that dear? No one likes a mumbler.” 

“Because of you! Because... I like you,” She says, carding her hand through her hair; her walls tumbling and every emotion she’s shouldered alone spilling forth in a maddened haze. 

“I’ve seen hundreds of undead, most of whom I gladly sent back to their graves. They were merely the husks of the people they once were. Any soul left in them was but a dying echo as they pleaded for their suffering to end. I thought I was helping,” she says, voice shaking, “But what if I ended the life of someone who just wanted-- no needed-- a second chance? Was I an arbiter of divine justice, or just some glorified executioner? I started to question everything when we met.” 

His mind is a whirlwind, thoughts simultaneously speeding yet slow. The half of him that yearns to be known, to be loved, is battling against his ever-present fear that he is not worthy of such. It’s a terrifying concoction, one that has him questioning just how accurate Tav’s description of the undead is. He has no idea who Astarion is; he knows who the elven magistrate once was, but who is Astarion the spawn, besides Cazador’s infernal expectations? 

“By no means am I saying that you haven’t suffered, but you are not some hollow corpse, Astarion. Despite everything that’s happened, and everything that has yet to come, you have grown in unprecedented ways. You’ve broken a mold, defied all odds. You’re simply breathtaking...” 

He is, isn’t he? No one has given him enough credit; no one has truly recognized the pure shit he has survived through. No one has offered him the chance or the choice to be better. He’s tired of the untrusting sideways glances, the disgusting feeling of some stranger’s eye roaming his figure. He’s always been expected to fall in line, and today he makes the promise to finally live for himself. 

“When this is all over, I want to stay by your side, if you’ll have me.” 

She looks at him with reverence, like he can pluck the stars from the night sky. He has seen this look before, when she would talk about Kelemvor, and he swears his undead heart nearly beats under her adoring gaze. He has no army to command, cannot turn into mist nor bat; he is practically powerless, and yet she wants him anyway. She believes in him, even though he can’t trust himself. Where he sees nothing, she has found something worth abandoning her god for.  

“I don’t think I’ve heard you this quiet before... are you alright?” 

He cannot find the words necessary to explain his delight. Even if he did, he doubts he’d still even be able to form them, arrange them into proper sentences. The truth has rendered him speechless.  

It doesn’t erase the fact that she sounds hurt, scared even, at the prospect that his silence means rejection. He recognizes the feeling all too well, and if she can overcome its pain to tell him the truth, then dammit, he can do the same. Perhaps he will forever roam darkened streets, but that doesn’t mean all of him must remain in the shadows. He must be honest, expose his own secrets to the proverbial light, and allow her the same choice. 

“Oh yes, I’m fine. I just... feel awful.” 

He hopes she chooses him all the same. 

“Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan-” 

[ishaslife]

Astarion has been breaking my poor heart.

This post will contain spoilers for the game and Astarion's romance/backstory. Before anyone comes at me, I want to say that you are the main character, you are supposed to change the fates and behaviours of your characters, especially if you are romancing them. It's a video game, that's kind of the point.

This post is extremely long and I apologise.

This analysis is based off my playthrough.

(*) means check notes at the bottom of the post.

I wasn't expecting to like him as much as I do. Don't get me wrong, I really liked him during EA and I thought he was funny, charming, flirty with a dark past and all that was just a means to cover his trauma but since the full game has come out and we've gotten to know more of him, it truly breaks my heart to see and know what he has been through. My sister and I were watching his reactions to be being rejected, being told that Tav only wants sex and forcing him to do things he doesn't want to do, it is truly heart-wrenching.

Many people expected Astarion to be this "I am so sexual and my romance will mostly be sex, also I will betray you the first chance I get." and it couldn't be further from the truth. Astarion is extremely loyal, and yes he has that air of flambouncy to him, will often make japes and say evil things but most of the time, it is just a facade. It's his shield in a way, he has been treated with utter cruelty for two hundred years of his life and now that he finally has some control over himself, he doesn't wish to be hurt again.

I don't think Astarion is ever completely evil, even in the beginning. He just wants to have fun and enjoy life after so many years of slavery. He likes it when you are snarky, say mean shit to people for fun but, he doesn't like to see innocents get hurt, and he doesn't support fighting for people who don't fight for themselves. Yes, he will support some of your evil decisions but they will lead to a bad ending, for you and your characters. It'll make Astarion wallow more in his greed and he'll lose the little humanity he has left. He doesn't really have a clear sense of direction in the beginning of the game as he's just found freedom and obviously wants to live life to the fullest, being evil comes naturally to him, it's instinct as its what he's been doing for two centuries.

This is my assumption since we don't know his actual age but since he's an elf who was well-respected in society, had a pretty prestigious job and was rich enough to be corrupt. I'd assume he was at least 70-100 years old before he was turned into a spawn. (EDIT - in a recent post by @deluxetrashqueen I saw the translation of the dates of birth and death on his tombstone:

"Astarion Ancunin

229-268 DR" to which he adds, "458DR - "

which shows that he was only 39 at the time of his death, which explains his emotional immaturity for an elf.) My point being, I believe he has been a spawn for longer than he's ever been a regular person. He has spent the longer part of his life doing evil things for an evil man, that was what his life was on a daily basis with Cazador. And his former work experience probably helped, he likely learnt pretty quick how much he took for granted as a living person and the harshness of his master, peers and people he seduced made him harsh and unforgiving in return.

Once you start getting close to him, you start to learn that he is only mean to people because of how life has treated him. In his romance, he says "no one ever looked out for me, no one ever said a kind word to me. You're the only one, no one is like that." Astarion starts to see, because of you that there is kindness in the world, and he finds kindness in you. Especially after his quest, as much as he'd hate to admit it, he also sees friends in your other companions as they do in him. By the end of Act 2, he starts to get more soft towards you and the decisions you make, often even disapproving of evil decisions. People often tend to forget that a lot of Astarion's evil personality is a front, it is not who he truly is.

These points will be better explained individually so I will talk about some themes.

Power: power plays a big part in his entire storyline. In the beginning, he wants to harness the powers of the tadpole to become powerful and at first, you think that it's simply because he's an evil character and he wants power for the sake of having it. Then later, he wishes to take over the power of the ascendant but mostly only to spite Cazador and take something important from him, not fully realising the true power of the rite.

As he slowly starts opening up to you, he tells you "the mind flayers tore me from that place" and you realise that its the tadpole that let's him walk in the sun, do things a vampire or spawn would never be able to, you learn that he hates being a vampire because he can't even remember what he looks like. He seeks power outside because he has had no power over himself for about two centuries, he thinks that having this power will fulfill his needs but it won't, we know it won't because in truth he only needs to reclaim his autonomy, physical and mental. Of course Astarion would never truly admit to this for a long while, even when he's romanced. I personally really love his good romance arc where he doesn't have sex with you, not because he dislikes you or doesn't want you but because, as he says "any kind of intimacy was something I performed to lure people back for him. While I know things between us are different... being with someone still feels tainted. It brings up all those feelings of disgust and loathing." He has spent 200 years or so bowing to Cazador's whims, done things to people he didn't want to do and I assume since it's heavily hinted at, were very sexual in nature. In a relationship, he simply wants to be seen as a person and I think that's really sad because that's how low the bar is for him.

In the ending of his quest, you can persuade him and tell him that going forth with the ritual won't set him free even if he thinks it will and I agree. If he's a slave to Cazador now, later he'd be a slave to power and greed. Just look at Cazador, despite being one of the most powerful beings in existence, he still wanted more power. That kind of greed and hunger never ends and Astarion would lose himself and who he has become while he was with us. Yes, it makes him walk in the sun again and do things a regular vampire can't but at what cost? 7,000 lives and his humanity. He would never be able to enjoy this "freedom" because he'll only strive to seek more power. In his ascendant ending, he becomes everything he's ever hated about Cazador, the cycle repeats itself, from Vellioth to Cazador and from Cazador to Astarion. And it will never end. Astarion even refuses to turn you into a vampire and wishes to keep you only as a spawn. With an insight check, you can learn that he thinks you're degrading yourself and he doesn't care. He now sees you as something to own, something to possess, not love. All his good qualities, wants and needs get twisted. Astarion truly only needs to feel like a person again but he doesn't fully realise this until you show it to him, through good deeds and actions, through simple acts of kindness. As he says in his "good" ending "I've been dead in the ground enough. It's time to try living again. With all that life has to offer."

Safety: Astarion wants to feel safe. He is so scared of being found by Cazador, he knows he's looking for him and the only thing giving him some form of safety from Cazador is the tadpole so of course he wants to harness its powers that is until he finds out it'll turn him into another kind of monster, a mind flayer. He doesn't wish to lose himself and his freedom again hence is vehemently against taking on the tadpole's powers but he doesn't stop you because that is of course, your decision to make. He says "if such power would please you, darling, I won't stop you. But do be careful, I want you to remain you." Now the only thing left that can properly give him his freedom is Cazador's death and he wants to kill him himself which I think is perfectly acceptable, Cazador deserves to die and if it is by Astarion's hands, all the better. But, in his romance, he makes it clear that he's doing it for safety, and he tells himself that he wants to take the power of the rite for safety as well because in truth, he is terrified of being powerless again. He does want revenge yes, but he also wants to keep you and himself safe from Cazador, even in the dungeon, if you run an insight check, the narrator tells you that he is losing his mind because of the power that's on offer and the smell of blood in the air. It's almost as if to say "he's losing his mind, please stop him before he forgets who he is." Astarion NEEDS your guidance*, eventually he even thanks you for 'saving him from himself.' In his good ending, he sees that in taking the power, he would be no better than Cazador and would become everything he's ever hated about him, and inflict on others what his former master inflicted on him, starting with you. His ascendant ending is honestly a very sad ending for his character, all that growth, change and development you bring to him throughout your journey just gone down the drain as he becomes an unfeeling, evil, narcissistic arsehole who only craves for more power. In his good ending, he will be safe, with you and with the friends he has made along the way. He is proud of himself and so is everyone else, it offers him a kind of friendship that's afforded to very few in the D&D world, especially a vampire/spawn whose very existence is hated. It is a bond based on trust, loyalty and to a degree, even love instead of fear like in the ascendant ending.

Abandonment and Fear: Astarion is driven by fear but he also knows facing Cazador is inevitable and something he needs to face rather than avoid. Even if he isn't outright seeking it (but he does seek it) I think he is braver than he likes to think and he definitely has some anti-hero traits. He likes the tadpole because it helped him get away from Cazador's authority and he enjoys bending others to his will since it makes him feel more powerful compared to how he's felt the past two centuries. But if you choose to not do the same, he doesn't really care. He doesn't except it of you nor is he disappointed (since he neither approves or disapproves. He only disapproves helping people who didn't ask or didn't want to be helped) he only gives a snarky comment or two about what he would've done instead and follows you anyway. He realises you're a good person. If you indulge too much however, I would argue that he agrees simply because he doesn't want you to turn against him. Perhaps he believes that you can turn on him and kill him as easily as you killed the tieflings or other innocents. He probably thinks it's easier to turn a good person evil than an evil person, good (tbh he wouldn't be entirely wrong.) And making bad choices does negatively affect his character of course but I just thought I'd put that out there as I think it's very likely for him to do so. He is definitely extremely paranoid, he hardly ever says how he truly feels out loud but when you break up with him (it's so heartbreaking omg) he says "I was beginning to think someone truly wanted me. I shouldn't have deluded myself." and "From the start, I was rather counting the hours until it was going to end. Midnight chimes, eh?" As heartbreaking as it is, the latter line shows how terrified he was of being abandoned or only be used for his body, he kept obessesively worrying that Tav would leave him after he bore his heart out to them. There's another bit of dialogue in Act 1 where he is trying his lines with you to get you to sleep with him a second time and you can say no which he is fine with but if you outright reject him there, meaning "I never want to see you like that again" he gets extremely sad: "Well, excuse me while I die of a broken heart. [slight chuckle] In all honesty, it's a shame. That time was special to me. I've gotten on my back 10,000 times or more and forgotten half of them. But you, I'll remember. [long pause] Have a fine evening... dear." Mind you, this is after you've only slept with him once. His dialogue makes it seem like he was already catching feelings for you, and not realising that himself until this happens. Seeing this made me realise that you're the first person he's slept with of his own volition, even if it was to seduce you. For the longest time, I think Astarion doesn't even want to believe you'll like him as something more than someone to sleep with, he hopes you might as his rejection line says so but astarion is nothing if not careful and well, paranoid.

That's why he's so shocked when you choose to not let him bite Araj at Moonrise even if it gave you something powerful in return. He sees that you chose his comfort over a genuinely useful commodity. Biting people or using his vampire, well, anything makes him extremely uncomfortable since it reminds him of things he needed to do for Cazador. If he bites her, it makes him feel like being a slave again, but bending to your will and wishes instead of his former master's. He realises he doesn't know how to say no. Which is another thing he says if you wish to pursue only a sexual relationship with him. He feels played.

Freedom: this is probably the main theme to his character arc. He wants to be free, not only from his master but also free to make right decisions and make decisions for himself, something he hasn't been able to do for years. This is why respecting his decision to not sleep with you is important to him, he doesn't feel comfortable being physically close to someone in a sexual way as it makes him doubt the person's true intentions and feelings and of course, makes him feel loathsome and disgusted with himself. He needs that time where you just connect as people to really see that you are in fact genuine and he wouldn't be hurt if he trusted you or gave you his heart. Towards the end of the game, he is still quite ruthless, but mostly only towards people who do wrong and are criminals. Astarion has a very strong set of ideals, he believes that people who do wrong deserve to die no matter the crime. I don't think this is entirely true, every crime deserves a different punishment but most criminals, those who do severe wrong and still get away with it, do deserve to die but this is just my opinion of course. He is ruthless towards bad people because that's how people have been to him, at least Cazador and I wouldn't be surprised if he was treated badly during his sexual encounters with strangers while working for him.

Why I think the Ascendant ending is a tragic ending for Astarion's character and for you.

I won't lie, there are some aspects of ascended Astarion that are pretty hot and I'm a sucker for (pun absolutely intended) powerful, gothic vampires but this ending comes at the cost of way too much. One simply being: Astarion isn't Astarion anymore. All his snarkiness, playful nature and strange innocence is gone. In his ascendant ending, that is, when he takes the power of the Rite of Ascension for himself by carving the same rune on Cazador's back that's on his own, Astarion loses himself. In D&D lore, full vampires are unfeeling, ruthless and have all their good traits twisted into something more malignant and evil. If Astarion loved you, that love turns into possession, if he cared for you, it turns into obsession. He doesn't truly care anymore... as a vampire, he is manipulating you and telling you things you want to hear instead of what he's actually feeling. He never truly got that moment of catharsis by killing Cazador as he does in his spawn ending. That simple bliss of killing the man that enslaved him and worse all these years; he never gets to experience that because he ends up using Cazador for the same power Cazador killed Vellioth for in the past, albeit worse. It's a never-ending cycle. And if he turns you into his spawn, you will go through the same fate Astarion went through and probably turn on him the same way he turned on Cazador. He has absolutely no sympathy for you or for anyone that is not him, in fact he feels almost disgusted by you because he thinks you're degrading yourself in front of him. There is a conversation between him and if you refuse to become his spawn, and I think it sums up his character perfectly as a vampire, it goes like this:

(choosing different options will have different dialogues but they more or less lead to him saying the same thing.)

ASTARION: Just so you know, I have everything I've ever wanted. Everything lies ahead. I can see my path to a waking dream. From the Crimson Palace, I will govern day and night. Create a city of spawn who bow before me, cast a fog over the world for my children.

TAV: But the Palace halls will be lonely.

ASTARION: You'll be lonelier than I. Very soon I will discover how to call my legions of wolves, become a sea of mist, run wrongside-up on roofs. [laughs] Everything vampires do best.

You could have, too. [sniggers] What a waste.

TAV: You don't really have anything at all.

ASTARION: I can take anything I want. I should've made you a spawn just to teach you that.

And there we have it, that last bit of dialogue shows how Astarion is now everything he hated about his own master. He is Cazador's literal and spiritual successor, he thinks you need to be punished for rejecting him. He doesn't feel for you anymore, at least not in a human way. He has become someone else entirely, for the worst. His drive for taking the power of the rite was to be able to walk in the sun again but as a full vampire, he wants to "dominate it (the world) until the sun melts and give ourselves over to the night."

Astarion NEEDS change, he needs to see that the world can be a kinder place than the one he's lived in this whole time. Just a bit of care and love with him goes a long way. In his spawn ending, he comes to realise that you gave him his life back even if it was as a spawn because that is true freedom. He is free from his master, and greed & power which was in the disguise of safety. He may never be able to walk in the sun, but he is free to make his own decisions that are driven by his choices. One of them being; wanting and loving you, living a full life with you, whatever that may entail.

If you went into the game thinking that Astarion will betray you no matter what then giving him the ascendant ending brings your fears to life. Astarion doesn't learn anything, by making him a full vampire, you basically tell him that he can only be powerful and worth something if he has super vampire powers, and in turn, you lose everything too. Astarion may have gained unparralled strength but now he has no need of you, you gave him everything he wanted and nothing he needed so now he can do whatever he wants with you because you are lesser than him, literally, he is much stronger than you are and his power will only grow as he discovers more of it. He tries to manipulate you into turning you into a spawn. A dialogue being:

TAV: After everything you went through with Cazador, you're going to make me a spawn?

ASTARION: Oh that was completely different, I'd never hurt you. I love you. That's what you've been waiting to hear, isn't it? That's what you want?

Which just shows you how he's only saying "I love you" because that's what you want to hear, so you agree to becoming his spawn. He doesn't mean it, it doesn't really have any feeling behind it whatsoever. And if he turns you into a spawn, you have basically lost everything. Because he is obsessive over you, he'll never let you go and since now he is properly evil, he likely won't turn you into a vampire either, even if he says he will.

This is just my take on the ending though, I think we can all agree the ascendant ending is the evil ending for his character, even if it is an ending you prefer. I'm not trying to hate on anyone who does like this ending, only stating that I think it is meant to be evil and I personally don't like it.

CONCLUSION

Once you get to truly know Astarion, he's a pretty decent guy. I can't speak much for people who didn't romance him, I'm not entirely sure how his non-romance route plays out. The good conclusion of his quest is so wholesome, where he says he feels "truly, honestly free" and tells you "you saved me from myself. This is a gift, you know, thank you. I won't forget it." getting full circle to the first time you let him bite you (the only time in my case.) It shows so much character development and pure joy in the way he thanks you (it doesn't need to be said but props to Neil Newbon for bringing the character to life.) He will always be a spawn and yet, he feels like "anything and everything is possible" because of you and the choices you made with him, you believed in him when he didn't believe in himself, you showed him that he is enough just the way he is and he doesn't need to become a full vampire to be strong and powerful. Astarion comes out of his finale, a much more positive person, who actually cares even if he won't show it and the best part is, he always keeps that tiny streak of evil and mischief within him. He hasn't lost sight of himself, he's just less spiteful now and feels free to actually enjoy life rather than constantly being scared of what might happen to him. He finds trust and happiness in you and it makes him happy that you find the same within him. You are his home and he hopes he is yours.

I understand that my analysis may not be perfect and my interpretation of the character may be different from someone else's but that's fine, he is a video game character that can be played so many ways and people can go around it however they like, interpret his character however they wish. This is just what I think.

NOTES

'Astarion needs your guidance.' - no, this is not gaslight-y. Astarion is a deeply troubled character and clearly finds it hard to differentiate between right and wrong. He often asks for your input and what you think by Act 2 which isn't a bad thing, he's asking for help and I think that shows how far he's come. In the final scene of his quest, he is overcome by the promise of power and the safety it would've provided which would've consumed him as it did Cazador, Astarion admits to this himself too later on once he can think clearly and is in a more positive mindset. There is nothing wrong with guiding your partner towards something that will eventually be better for their growth as a person in the long run.

[graveyardcuddles]

There's this post I saw on here about how if the player turns Shadowheart over to the Sharans, the rest of the party should all turn on you. I completely agree, and I think they should also mutiny against Tav/Durge if they tell Orin to just go ahead and kill the party member she takes hostage. Act 3 feels like the act where everyone in the group should care about each other the most and yet it's the act where they arguably feel most disconnected from one another. And this is all probably a symptom of the overall lack of reactions and responses to major events in Act 3 from the companions in general.

But another similar example that drives me insane is how, if you ascend Astarion and then immediately turn on him and side with the Gur, ALL of the companions will just be like "Nice work taking out the trash, team. Job well done. Another vampire lord vanquished, " without so much as a hint of emotion after you betray him, gang up on him and KILL HIM?? As if they hadn't spent weeks and possibly months traveling with Astarion, getting to know him, bonding with him, ect. As if they hadn't just all stood there and let him complete the ritual. But the moment Paladin Karen and the Gur show up, they just abandon all that over what? Some vague ideal of "evil is evil black and white no nuace" nonsense? (which is even more ridiculous if some of the other companions are evil like DJ Shadowheart or Minthara).

The only companion with a reasonable reaction is Halsin, who correctly points out you should have tried harder to stop the ascension rather than betray Astarion and kill him after it happened. I understand that not all of the companions have the best relationship with him. And I understand all of them very much disapprove of him ascending. So I don't expect the whole party to mutiny over this particular decision. But the fact that they ALL uniformly turn on him so quickly for these people they don't even know is disappointing. There should have realistically been some pushback/objections. Or at least some guilt and sadness and reflection over the fact that they all just had to kill their former traveling companion/friend that THEY allowed to become this threat they felt warranted putting down.

It feels like it should be an incredibly tragic and cathartic moment, and it just falls spectacularly flat. I tried to rationalize their reactions as just part of the shitty lack of responses the companions all generally have in Act 3. But at least with Shadowheart and the hostage situation with Orin the companions will still be ANGRY at you and express their disaproval. Whereas here it really comes off like they just don't give a shit about Astarion and never really did. It's depressing.

I feel like it unintentionally and very sadly lends validation to the idea that what Astarion says about no one else being like Tav/Durge. No one else will look out for him. No one else will have that same kindness for him. No one has a heart like them. I don't actually agree with this notion. I think based on the good epilogue for his spawn ending he's definitely capable of making friends and genuine human connections. But Tav/Durge HAS to come first. They have to be the example that shows him how.

Also why I can't stop repeatedly romancing him. Astarion needs Tav/Durge arguably more than any other companion. He has nothing and no one else.

[dark-and-kawaii]

love knowing that you’re into bg3 like so many of us Kiwi! Did you love all the romance options or do you wish we could’ve had others because have you seen Dammon and Raphael! Glad to have you back with us btw!

AWHHHHH STOP!!!! You’re going to make me cry! It’s so good to be back on here, honestly!!! Now to answer your lovely question!!!

I was honestly happy at first but the more I played the game the more I saw the potential in adding other characters as romance options…

𝓩𝓮𝓿𝓵𝓸𝓻:

Like, I fell in love with Zevlor the moment I met him and I honestly would’ve picked him over Astarion for my first playthrough if he was an option -yeah yeah I know unpopular opinion.

But as I continued I was so confused as to why he wasn’t available for us because if you don’t go Minthara’s route then he would’ve been the perfect substitute because HELLOOOOO PALADIN!!!!

Not to mention during act two that would’ve been a perfect redemption ark for him, like there was SO MUCH POTENTIAL!!! Like he literally needed a hug after all the shit he’s been through and we weren’t able to grant him that…

He’s been with us since Act one… Up until the end he was with me. So I ask Larian, why wasn’t I allowed to travel and bed with this man!?

Grinds my gears man!!! I’m trying not to spoil too much in case someone hasn’t played yet.

𝓓𝓪𝓶𝓶𝓸𝓷:

Okay okay okay, as for Dammon…. Yeah no, I fucked up bad with him my first play through… uhhhhh he kinda died when the tieflings and I attacked the Druids 🥲 Oops. But during my second run I realized my mistake and he’s very much alive right now 😂!!!

With Dammon I don’t necessarily want him for myself, but rather for Karlach. I ship those two so damn hard it’s unreal!!! He loves her so much, you can just tell 🥹

And when he tells her she’s very touchable, I always kick my feet and giggle!!! Adorable to the max!

𝓡𝓪𝓹𝓱𝓪𝓮𝓵:

-Gods, just look at him… I love him so much UGHHH!!!-

Now as for our beautiful, smug, elegant cambion, Raphael… OOOOOF don’t get me started because the mouse would’ve pounced on the cat. I LOVE, and I do mean LOVE Raphael. Everything about him I just adore, and again SO MUCH POTENTIAL.

If you go his route there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be able to romance him. Like if you let Haarlep use you and you leave house of hope it indicates that Raphael is doing the nasty with Haarlep in your form once you leave. There’s clearly something there!!! So why can’t we!? I feel they left it during his ending that there might be a dlc for him, I hope, maybe… Also can we all agree that Raphael would’ve been another great villain ending with Tav???

The relationship between Tav and Raphael in game is already so interesting, and if you break into the house of hope to steal from him he looks extremely hurt that you betrayed him. Not to mention he’s like the only one who’s actually upfront with you, I don’t feel like he really hid anything unless you’re dense -no offense-.

Another thing, just because Haarlep says Raphael is bad in bed doesn’t mean he actually is. I feel a lot of individuals forget what Haarlep is 😂 sex is basically their thing.

Not to mention his little helper is basically always saying “he can’t stop talking about you.”

Plus, hold on, we can romance Mizora but not him… Nah!!!

𝓖𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓱:

A lot of people have said Gortash, which at first I didn’t really understand but that’s because I was a huge simp for Karlach and if you’ve played you know…

However the more I play and the more I read into I do understand. He could’ve used a nice redemption after everything he’s been through. He was a pawn, someone to be used, and honestly that was his whole life. So it would’ve been nice if Tav was an option for him.

I feel they could’ve had two endings for him and Tav, a good and a bad. Good being his redemption where Tav opens his eyes like what Tav did for Astarion and then the Bad obviously they rule together.

I feel Larian made a lot of great choices but I also feel they missed a lot of potential, which hopefully they continue to listen to their audience and add more routes in the future. So far they have been so one can hope. I also feel like all of these characters were left to where they could be potentially added later down the road. Fingers crossed!!!

- 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓚𝓲𝔀𝓲

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hi, discord friend! this is one of the silly ideas I had 😌 Asterion is having a very bad luck day. He keeps dropping things, setting off traps, breaking lockpicks, he ripped his shirt, and now his seduction skills are lacking hard. How would he navigate it?

As someone who is very clumsy and tends to panic a lot (triggered even by something unimportant), I can totally relate to Astarion is this prompt.

Thanks @brabblesblog for beta reading!

Tainted

Synopsis: Astarion believes he's been healed - but yet another unpleasant interaction and the darkness is back.

Tags: post-game, established relationship, mentions of past trauma.

TW: Conversation about triggers.

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion looks around the street. The town of Daggerfold, barely home to more than a thousand people, is dark and peaceful. Just a stopover for travelers, but once a part of a long-gone kingdom of the past.

He carefully navigates to a tavern where he stays with you. He was hesitant about renting a room first.

"They will notice I am a vampire, darling, and I am afraid. People in those cities tend to hate vampire lovers more than the Undead themselves."

But you looked at him with those puppy eyes (learned from a professional), and he agreed. Besides, not being constricted to the tent for the whole day feels nice.

Astarion can walk around the room and the tavern, read, and talk to the people if he wants (he usually doesn't) and you can sleep in a comfortable bed.

Besides, you both have had a bath for the first time in weeks today.

Astarion notices the signs of the pre-dawn on the east. The innate fear grasps his mind.

Run. Run. Run.

Hide. Or die. Elves call it mor. The ultimate death, without resurrection to come.

Astarion forces himself to calm down. It's still too early and the Inn is already visible in the distance. He doesn't even have to rush.

A hand grabs his wrist and he flinches, disturbed by the unwelcome touch.

The young man, probably a half-elf, tries to pull him closer, seductively licking his lips, a gesture too familiar for Astarion not to notice.

"Looking for company, handsome?" His words are sweet and full of lust. "I can offer you a time of pleasure."

Astarion wants to set himself free, just to go away. It's not supposed to be difficult. It's not like the young man's grip is tight. A simple "no" is enough, people in this profession don’t tend to insist.

The vampire knows it from personal experience.

"Your skin is so pale, almost like marble. And hands... so cold. Come on, I will warm you"

Astarion is paralyzed. As if he is ordered not to move. Like he often used to be.

When he was on the other side of this conversation. When he was the man who needed to get a client as soon as he could.

Seeing no resistance, the prostitute reaches out for his cheek.

His touch is acid-burning.

"GO AWAY!" Astarion yells, almost betraying his fangs. "Leave me alone!"

The man is taken aback and immediately pulls away. Astarion curses and mutters through his teeth all the slurs he remembers.

Every word he ever heard from passers-by.

Whore. Slut.

Filliken.

There is a disgusted and evil smile on the man's face. "You were like me, am I right? All of you… former colleagues, are like that."

Astarion steps back. A dark wave of terror drags him to the abyss. The sun is almost up.

He makes himself move towards the Inn.

"But you can't escape your past! You hear me? It will always be with you, no matter how hard you try to wash it all away!"

Astarion runs. The moment the first ray pierces the air, he is already in the safe shadow of a sleepy inn.

It's almost empty. Only a few drunkards sleep peacefully on the floor. Astarion goes upstairs, praying you aren't back yet.

Because he doesn't want to look at you right now.

His hands tremble and dark thoughts plague his mind like a swarm of flies.

The room is empty and your walking boots are missing. He sighs in relief.

That's the problem with you. You know when something is wrong. Even if you understand he doesn't want to discuss it, you still acknowledge it.

Besides, if you were in the room, you would hear the screams.

Astarion falls on the bed, not bothering to undress himself, and closes his eyes.

He needs to meditate. He needs to wander away. When he wakes up, it will be better.

But Astarion should know better; it never works like that.

Again and again, he sees the same things. Hands of strangers, touching him without his consent. His cheeks, his chest, his back. His private parts. Grabbing and groping him. Laughing and smiling. Future victims. Useful people he needed to extract information from. Others whom he just needs to please.

Sweat that feels like acid. Touches that hurt like red-hot tongs. Intimacy is worse than torture.

Astarion tries to force his mind to remember something else. You, he needs to remember you. Your touches, your voice, your blood. He attempts to visualize you but instead, it's a look-alike stranger, a fake voice with hurtful words.

He sits up, pressing his hands to the chest. His body feels rested but his mind is exhausted. Astarion hears voices from downstairs - busy afternoon in the tavern.

…You sleep beside him pressing your face into the pillow. Astarion notices that his boots are taken off and his body is covered with a blanket. It seems like when you came back, you put the shoes off him and tucked him in the blanket.

Astarion carefully gets out of bed. He still has a few hours before you wake up and he needs to occupy his mind with something.

It seems like the trance has made things worse.

Astarion, moron, you taint Tav. A voice within his undead heart whispers. Your past will never go away. Your skin is dirty. People will always know who you are. Tav pities you but even heroes are tired of being saviors.

This will never be over. Whatever he does. Wherever he goes, his past will follow him like the smell of death. He ruins you. He destroys you.

Astarion takes a book out of the bag and opens it randomly. A trembling hand tries to turn the page.

And tears it.

Fuck.

The books fall to the floor with a loud thump.

You move in your sleep but don't wake up. Astarion, cursing himself for being so clumsy, picks it up and immediately bumps his head on the wooden table.

Tainted. Tainted, the voices keep whispering, completely taking away all the control. His body doesn't belong to him. All the movements are off.

"Astarion, are you all right?" you mumble in the pillow.

"Yes... my... I am ... " The ability to talk properly leaves him as well.

He needs to go out. At least, he can sit in a tavern and look for potential contracts.

In a tavern similar to his hunting spots. And where yet another person might try to get him to bed.

He pulls out the door, but it is locked. He looks around and sees the key on the table. Tries to take it but it slips away through his fingers.

"Is anything wrong?" you yawn, sitting up. Your face is sleepy and the hair is messy.

"No... I am..."

You stand up and while still half-asleep pick up the key and open the door. Astarion stays at the threshold, fearing to fall down the stairs the moment he leaves the room.

"Astarion, the more I live with you, the more you resemble a cat to me! Do you want to stay inside or go out?"

"I ... "

His hands are still trembling. You look at them, noticing the tremor.

And close the door.

"I take my words back about you being a cat. You are more like a hobgoblin now."

"Careful, darling, I can get offended"

"So, you can speak now. What's wrong? You don’t look drunk to me, so?"

"Nothing important. Please, go to sleep."

"Did someone hurt you?"

"No, nothing"

"Liar."

Before he manages to object, you make him return to bed. As he sits down, you help him to undress. The light armor he forgot to put off, the shirt, and the trousers are carefully placed on the chair. He stays only in his underwear.

His hands are still shaking.

“I would gladly offer you my blood, but I am afraid you will pierce my carotid artery in your current state.”

Astarion nods. You lie on the bed and pull him to you. He places his head on your chest. You wrap your hands around him as if protecting him from the outside world and his own mind.

You are warm like sunlight.

You lie silently under the blanket in the dark room. You got the cheapest room in the Inn – the one without windows and the Innkeeper couldn’t understand why you two were so content about it.

“Can I touch your back?” you ask.

"What? Of course... Of course, you can. Why do you even ask?"

"Because I care about you", a gentle caress brushes over his scars. “Because I want you to feel safe.”

And he gives up. He tells you everything. About the man on the streets. The words and curses Astarion addressed mostly to himself.

"I feel tainted," he admits. “I feel that I ruined you. I can't undo my past. It follows me like a shadow. And I bring this shadow to our bed!

A soft kiss. Then, another. Fingers draw invisible pictures on his skin. Tears prickle his eyes.

Why is he so weak? Why is he so pathetic?

Noticing his tension, you tug him closer.

"I am sorry", he mutters. "I thought I had already recovered. That the things have already gotten better."

"They have. And you can't make progress without taking any steps back. It's a part of growth."

He chuckles but still feels miserable. He doesn't know what makes him feel worse. The thoughts in his head or the understanding that he has been lying to himself.

Astarion believed he was healed. It was a lie.

"You don't taint me, Astarion. You don't ruin me. I don't care how many people touched you. I care only about what you are and what you want to be."

He finally finds the strength to pull you closer to himself. "I want it to be over. I want to move forward. But I just can't. It seems like… he truly broke me. There is nothing to repair.”

“A broken man wouldn’t desire revenge the very moment he acquired freedom. Broken people beg to be returned to their masters. A broken man wouldn’t fight back. You aren’t broken and you are healing. And I love you. Never doubt it.”

You lie together in silence. Astarion notices his hands don’t tremble anymore and he relaxes a bit. He is safe. 

But is he happy?

He concentrates on his feelings. He is in the dark room protected from the sun. On the soft and comfy bed. His hands are wrapped around you, the first and only person he cares about and loves. And who gives him everything he thought he wasn’t worthy of? A heavy thick blanket covers you both. The touches on his bare skin are so gentle he is about to cry. The soothing heartbeat sounds like a lullaby.

Yes, he is happy. Even if his mind tries to tell him otherwise.

You fall asleep again, and Astarion stays motionless not wanting to wake you up yet again.

When he finally notices your movements, indication that you are ready to wake up. He frees himself from your grip and presses his lips against yours. He kisses you softly, slowly, tasting you.

Thanking you.

“Feeling better?” you ask once your eyes open.

"Hello, darling", he smiles. “Yes, I am.”

Mor - ultimate death. Filliken - “open skirt”, a prostitute (a slur).

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Nightcall

Gale x F! Tav (named)

18+ implied trauma, miscommunication, tenderness, loneliness, love triangle dynamics, touch starved, wandering hands, feelings developing

Gale had been spellbound by her, one of the many in that predicament. He was resigned to his one-sided longing until she sought him out after seeing another...

Masterlist

-

"I'll see you at the party, right?" She smiled, settling down next to him. Wiping her armor.

His heart constricted. Staring at her brilliance.

"Yes." He breathed.

She was a vision, truly. Like her whole body had been dipped in golden light. Long waves of yellow hair, tinged with orange. Olive skin, freckles smattering across her nose. The endless gold hues only broken in her eyes, a hauntingly pale blue, nearly grey.

And of course, the tattoo.

It was naturally what people first saw. Curling geometric patterns from the crest of her hairline to the dip of her neck. As if someone had laid gold foil over her in the most lovingly intricate patterns.

It had stunned him to silence when she had pulled him from that stone, eyes getting lost.

She had waited patiently for his mind to restart, arms crossed, standing feet apart.

Catching, he introduced himself as he had intended. Harnessing enough tact to keep his burning curiosity to himself.

Something he became glad for. As they traveled near every person they met had endless questions. Sometimes full-on strangers walking up and pushing invasive inquiries.

Her answers changed like the wind, though she did have a favorite handful of responses.

"An old sacred elf rite of passage."

"Ah, I spent time on a secluded island. Things get wild."

"All wood elves have tattoos, most of them are in places you can't see."

It was honestly impressive how many quips she had on hand. But she probably had ample practice, given the fade of the tattoo.

Only once did she falter.

When they had met Halsin for the first time, he had done the same hypnotized gaze as Gale had at first. And like for him, she had waited.

The druids eyes seemed to light in recognition.

"A morninglord?"

Her body tensed.

"Pardon?" Her tone was casual, smooth. Betraying the tight muscles in her shoulders.

"A child of Lathander, yes? Or am I mistaken?"

"You are."

The silence that held the air was sharp. She offered no more clarification and continued on to ask about Moonrise.

It had been left at that, though their party exchanged glances.

"Well, now I have more questions." Astarion intoned, side eyeing her as they wandered away to search chests.

"I don't know, Fangs. It's clearly a sore subject, I'd say let it drop." Karlach hushed.

"But don't you want to know?" He retorted, exasperated.

"We all want to know. Whether it's any of our business is an entirely different story." Gale sniped, suddenly feeling protective.

"Oh, boo. Why did I get saddled with the goody two shoes..." He scoffed, walking away exuding haughtiness.

As soon as Astarion was out of earshot Karlach turned to him, fervor in her eyes.

"I really really want to know."

Gale smiled. "Of course you do. There must be a good story there."

The tattoo only aided her pull, a silver tongue and a propensity for persuasion. Everything about her had a magnetic pull. A practiced fluid grace in the way she moved, flowing through the world.

He was genuinely shocked when she said she was a bard.

"Really? I would've pegged you for a cleric, maybe a monk. Bards are usually so..."

"Theatrical?" She smiled, leaning her chin on hand.

"That's a word for it."

It wasn't until he heard her play that he understood.

The way that she leaned into her violin, eyes closed. The pull of her bow a deliberate reverent movement.

Though she would often oblige the frequent more upbeat song requests, whenever he found her playing alone it was always the slower songs. The call of her violin a mournful wail, soaring over him.

People naturally leaned towards her, willing to follow her to the ends of the earth.

He was no different, but he did try to be an asset. Filling in gaps with his talents as he could find them. Figured if he could make himself at least slightly indispensable, he wouldn't get left behind.

Now, the revelery of the tiefling party in full swing he caught sight of her. Heading towards Astarion, that beckoning look in his eyes. Gale's heart sank, but he couldn't blame her. He was... well, Astarion. All sensuality and enthralling beauty.

When she turned from him as they finished talking, he trailed his eyes along her, smirking.

She headed over to him then, smiling warmly. He tried to hide the strain in his face.

"Hello, Gale." Her low melodic voice played his name like a harp.

"Ah, hello. Busy tonight, I wager?" He immediately winced, his words coming out far more clipped than he intended.

"Possibly, I'm not certain yet. There is someone I would enjoy spending some time with tonight."

"Well, Astarion is a solid pick. A little bitey for my tastes, but don't let me deter you from having fun."

Her head tilted slightly, peering into him.

Feeling like a bug under a magnifying glass, he cleared his throat.

It was unfair how beautiful she was, all dignified sloping lines. A heart shaped face further accentuated by a sharp jaw. Slanted fox eyes. Pouty flushed lips. Nose slightly hooked.

He could see a statue being made in her likeness.

Honestly it made sense for her to be with Astarion, they were both breathtaking.

Such an arresting creature giving someone like him the time of day was frankly silly.

"I could be persuaded otherwise..." She stepped a little closer to him.

Heat rising to his neck, he laughed. Surely he was reading this wrong.

"Oh I'll be here for less intense activities. The orb, you know. Don't let me spoil your fun. Go on, indulge."

She seemed uncertain for a moment but eventually left. Giving him one last look over her shoulder.

A stab of longing struck through him, impaling through his stomach.

Ah, loneliness. That familiar companion.

A book propped on his knee he tried to bury his head in literature, Weaving a light inside the cave of his tent.

It was late, he should get some rest. But yearning was eating his stomach.

How embarrassing, he was far too old to have a crush.

He sighed and shut the book decisively.

"Are you still awake?"

He jumped at her soft voice.

"Aurum? I thought you'd be... uh, indisposed."

The edge of his tent flap lifted and her glacial eyes asked for entry.

"Please, come in." He tried to smother the eagerness in his throat.

She closed the flap and tied it down.

His mouth got dry at that. Further more when he realized she was just draped in a robe.

"I have a strange request, if you'll indulge me."

She sat gracefully on knees across from him. Her long hair loose over her shoulders, falling curtain in front of her as she lowered. The two puncture marks in her neck making his stomach tighten.

Anything. You can ask for anything.

"If I could be of service, I'm more than willing to help."

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, possibly reconsidering.

Thoughtlessly he leaned forward, taking her hand. Holding it gently between both of his. Hoping his earnestness reached her.

She seemed to relax then, smiling at him in that serene way that made him feel dizzy.

"Can you hold me for the night?"

He blinked. Shock tore through him.

"Yes! I mean, of course."

She smiled wider at him, hand between his turning, rubbing the thin skin of his wrist with her thumb.

Just that small sensation was sending jolts of pleasure across his body.

"Our vampire friend not one for cuddling I assume?"

He felt like he was already pushing it. But she just laughed.

Gods, it strummed a buzzing joy in his chest whenever he could get her to laugh. The sound like wind chimes.

"No. Certainly not. Honestly, I'm not even sure he likes me at all." She pulled close to him on knees, settling onto his bedroll.

He felt like he was holding his breath, not entirely sure this wasn't a dream.

"Well, he's a damned fool if he couldn't see what he had tonight."

She looked up at him then, eyes wide and vulnerable.

His heart was surely pounding loud enough to hear.

She pulled him down with her. Laying him back, she rested her head on his chest, long legs curling up around his. Slender fingers resting over where the orb lay. A contented sigh left her, and he thought he would melt.

Curling his arm around her back, he took the hand over his heart into his, threading their fingers.

"I knew I picked the right person. You're very good at this." He could hear the smile in her voice.

Now she had a front row seat to his thumping heart. But she only nuzzled down further.

"It's a shock to us both. I am not, ahem, practiced in this."

That was a great understatement.

"I have faith that one day you'll let me give you a compliment." Her voice was hushed, drifting.

He chuckled, pulling her hair away from her face. Fingers brushing over her scalp for a moment.

"Mmm, that's nice." She sighed.

He repeated the motion, encouraged. Carding his fingers gently through her silken hair.

Her breath became slow, evening out.

With a heady shot of accomplishment, he realized she was asleep.

Letting his eyes close he submerged himself in this feeling, in this moment.

Truly, he couldn't have imagined the serenity, the puddling he would've felt here. Her body the perfect weight on his, warming him through like the morning sun. Bliss in its entirety.

She pulled further into him, her leg curling up more. The robe falling back, revealing her bare hip.

He almost reached to pull it back over but was hypnotized again.

The line of her plush thighs flowed into hip, leading up in a mesmerizing arch. Creasing along the joint of her curled leg. A teasing dip inside the arch that would perfectly fit his hand. Like it was designed for that exact purpose.

He was absolutely pushing it, but he was nothing if not ambitious.

He slid the hand holding her back downward. Watching her body closely for any discomfort.

When his hand slid over the exposed skin, he had to bite back a moan. Velvet soft. His fingers couldn't help but splay, spreading to get as much contact as he could fit in his reach.

The sight of his wide hand spread over the curves of her sent him reeling.

Just as he had suspected, he slid his hand into that divot perfectly. Utterly entranced by the sight.

That some part of him could fit into her was inconceivable.

She reached across his chest and wrapped around his ribs. Head pushing up to fold into the curve of his neck. Letting out a sweet little whine. Soft breathing washing over his skin like the tide.

The smell of her hair oils wrapped around his head in a slow haze. Lavender and orange blossom.

Head turning into hers, he started to drift. Before he knew it had fallen into a deep sleep.

Bird song lilting through the air, something roused him. Looking bleary-eyed around his tent. Feeling an absence.

Alone.

Another song hung in the air. A clear bell of a voice rising high above.

Like a siren song, it pulled him from his tent.

It was very early, the sun just peeking over the mountains, world still bathed blue. The rest of the camp snoring.

Following the voice, he came upon Aurum sitting in the grass. Knees together, hands resting on her lap. Something near prayer.

Her head was leaned back, calling out only in high haunting tones. A wordless questioning cry.

It stole his breath away. Spellbound.

Her singing would stop in phrases, as if waiting for a response. Starting the wordless hymn over again.

After a third time, she fell quiet. Head falling forward.

The air felt heavy with loss, her hands opening in her lap.

He stepped back quietly, hand to his chest. A hollow sweeping pain pulling through it.

Returning to camp he started a low fire, putting the kettle over it. Finding his best tea that he had stashed away.

Setting up two cups.

He would have to get used to waking up early.

~

Part 2

[sailorgundam308]

Being the angst sucker that I am (but also a coward that doesn’t want to feel too depressed about bad endings), I headcanon a lot about the dynamics and end/post game canons for Astarion and Karlach as a couple (no shit!).

I know a lot of people ship Karlach with Dammon. I obviously don’t, but not because I think they don’t fit well together or whatever. I have this thing in my head of how I view Karlach which puts her relationship with Astarion as more realistic, more fulfilling, and more attractive to me (duh).

Dammon as a character is a nice, hard working guy. He’s also crazy handsome, has the hots for Karlach and some mechanics knowledge to be able to help her a bit. So yea, cool. I like him a lot so that’s not it.

BUT.

Just gonna blurt it out: I think Karlach is too fucked up to be with him in the canon universe we have. It’s a similar reason I have for how I see her reaction to the love test in the Circus in Act 3, which I made a post about. Had Karlach never been betrayed by Gortash, had not been irreversibly damaged (in more ways than one) and not been transformed by her 10 years ordeal, Dammon would be the ‘perfect pairing’ for her - a gentle, good hearted, generous and hot piece of ass. Thumbs up.

HOWEVER.

She’s not that girl anymore. She keeps it bottled up, pushes it down and shuts herself to what her trauma did to her and while it’s commendable, imo, it’s not real. She wants it to be so bad because she’s got so little time and is desperately clinging to her life before she started making mistakes (now being back in the Material Plane after so long). If she doesn’t die, though, she won’t keep this up forever. She’s carrying pain, remorse, ANGER, jealousy, self pity. A LOT of it. Much more than she let out in her post-Gortash breakdown. All these are very human emotions, and very understandable in her situation. She also changed, physically, mentally, emotionally. She grew, she learned- and it wasn’t all pretty and nice things. I like the idea that she’s being the most genuine character in the game while ALSO being the one wearing the most impenetrable mask. It’s wild and damn cool to see her through that lens.

Which brings me to Astarion.

He is also wearing a mask, but a much more frail one. He’s cracked. He tells and shows us these ugly emotions, his selfishness and hurt, much more directly than Karlach does. He’s broken, wicked, mean. It’s clear his trauma completely changed him (though I don’t think he was a good guy before it either), and is entrenched into who he is when we meet him - and will continue to be part of him even after he heals.

I think Karlach is attracted to him not in spite of how mean he is - but because of it. I don’t think she’s aware of it, though. She says something about Astarion having a good heart beneath it all - and while he might have something like a better heart inside that can be rescued, he’s not inherently good, nor he was before being turned (nor he wants to be). The dynamic of Karlach using goodness and positivity as a lifeline, as if to counter the decade of (literally) pure evil she’s been forced to endure, while also ‘surprisingly’ getting along so well with Astarion from the start, also being attracted to his wickedness, gives an incredible depth to their relationship. I see not only the idea of Karlach’s kindness, non-judgement and patience being a refuge for Astarion, but Astarion’s grey personality being a refuge where Karlach will be able to let her walls down - show the ugliness bottled up inside - without fear or shame, and knowing it will be completely and utterly understood. Astarion will never judge her for whatever impulses or thoughts she might have, for displays of selfishness, jealousy or violence. Imo, they can even work some of those out together (wink wink, but not only in that way lol). At the same time, I do believe Astarion saw from the first glance he had at Karlach (or in the first couple of days) that she carried a pain much like his. It’s why he respects her, why he is so quick to apologize to her and only to her, why he feels empathy for her suffering while being absolutely cold to the others. She’s the first one who gives him the opportunity of allowing himself to feel safe, to let his guard down if only for a night. His connection with her might be based on a selfish start (it’s about him - she is like him), but it grows to be more complex as they grow closer. I see him slowly falling in love with her as a parallel to him slowly learning to love himself, to forgive himself.

It’s all so beautiful, poetic and layered and shit (wow, me so eloquent).

But in all honesty, that’s all to say, while I think Karlach and Dammon look nice together, I see him as being the person who’d have been the one for her if she was just Karlach Cliffgate. However, she is not. She is Karlach Cliffgate and she is also Karlach Demonsbane - and for that ‘her’, Astarion - with his imperfections, his wicked ways and his darkness - is the one who truly fits her perfectly (or imperfectly, which imo is even better).

Thank you for reading all this rambling. I love rambling and will (can) never stop so good for you :V

AGH I LOVE bittersweet gritty messy romanceeeeeeee (but I wanna give them a better ending than the one in game - though if the patches weren’t broken, it’s improved a bit already)

[changeling-fae]

Gave my unicorn Tav, Iluatria (Lua for short), an update. I'm a The Last Unicorn hoe.

Her lore:

Lua was a unicorn who lived on the coast before an old dying wizard made a deal with a sea hag to capture her so he could force her into healing him and giving him more life.

He went to the local sea hag and had her help him capture and transform Lua (wild unicorns are notoriously difficult to capture otherwise). It worked obviously, but he betrayed the hag and killed her (who cursed him to be killed by his own folly soon enough, aka Lua).

He basically had her captured Calliope style in the Sandman, trying to persuade/intimidate/force her to give him power but she refused because it’s not something that can be taken. He gets drunk one night and tries to take it by force (by sawing her horn off which would kill her) and she instead impales him with her horn.

She then returns to where her sisters and brothers are like “hey, help me turn back” but then they said they can’t and that’s when Selûne is like “actually I’m going to need you to investigate Moonrise/the Absolute cult that’s forming and then I can turn you back”, so then Lua is forced to investigate which is then when she gets captured and tadpoled.

Since the gods were already sending their clerics and agents to check out what’s happening, Selûne would be like “actually this works in our favor for a bit” and is taking advantage of the situation.

I imagine Lua got nerfed a bit when she was transformed, then the tadpole nerfed her the rest of the way.

She knows she’s a unicorn (horn makes it obvious) but her memories of her life as a unicorn are starting to fade and the more connections she makes in her new form, the more she loses her old self. I’m using it as a form of meta too, since Tav is such a blank slate and feels like they didn’t exist before the events of the game, this is my meta of her literally being a new person.

She’s old, like older than Raphael old, but since I’m stealing so much from TLU, to quote Prince Lir, “she has a newness”.

She was a unicorn under the service of Selûne specifically, and she helped guide sailors and lost souls home along the coast. Keeping with the sea and navigation themes.

She’s not only trying to remove the tadpole but also trying to return to form before she “loses herself” forever. But of course she makes connections and once she and Astarion fall for each other, it’s when she has to make a decision. His spawn route is him deciding to try living again with his old self dead and buried, and with her it’ll be deciding to let her old self die as well.

She doesn't get on with Gale at first because she thinks wizards are selfish and power hungry but over time they become friends and they have interesting discussions around magic.

Right now her goal is “yes, I want to go back, this form is unnatural and torture” but she’ll start to develop an independent sense of self that starts to overtake her old self.

She’ll always have natural grace and beauty, but that ethereal otherworldliness will disappear over time.

While she's in this form she can feel her immortality and old self fade and it horrifies her but once she falls in love with Astarion she eventually comes to accept her new life. My end goal is at the end of the game, she chooses to use what's left of her powerful unicorn healing magic to cure Astarion of his vampirism. Her horn disappears and she's made fully mortal (as an elf) and they live their new lives together.

It's a cheesy idea but Selûne takes their souls (since Corellon won’t have him), and then they get reincarnated as unicorns. They’re essentially new people again, the way reborn souls are, but they find each other again and mate for life once more. And now he gets to be a unicorn; wild beauty, grace, and never again tamed too.

It’s super romantic and cheesy but sometimes I be a sucker for that.

And I do like the idea that Astarion, (who he himself and most people see as used, dirty, and corrupted), is actually seen as worthy enough and loved by a being in universe as pure as they come. And there’s an innocence in his passion for life that would attract her.

[bludermaus]

Another Emperor Post for you all

First of all, just forgive me for not being good at elaboration my opinions, but here we go:

I think another reason people dislike The Emperor is because they have this incessant need to be friends with everybody if they're doing a "good run", and if you're not friendly to the player then you're deserving of no mercy, nuance and greyness be damned

We see that on how people shit on Wulbren. Like, I don't like the guy that much, but I can see the nuance of someone that was maybe a nice person and became so full of bitterness that they start lashing against others and going to extreme measures to do what they *think* is right. It's not elaborated why and we can speculate forever, but if you save Wulbren and Barcus is dead he's far far nicer to you, so people might be extra pissy about him just because Barcus is a sweetie, so by consequence Wulbren is the worst for not being nice to him

Another example is Lae'zel. I love her, but how many times have we seen people saying that they hate her or left her in the camp not bothering with learning about her because she's initially very standoffish? Just because she's not friendly enough, she's not hugging you from the get-go and saying niceties, not worshipping the ground you step on immediately? Sure, she can become friendly and even an actual friend to you later, but that's not supposed to be a requirement for someone to be liked

And then we have The Emperor. Manipulation and ommission of information is not a friendly thing to do, so automatically evil, how dare he! Except that... He's not your friend and he doesn't (initially) want to be, he's an ally by necessity (and let's be honest, every companion there is working together just by necessity. For example: Pre-tadpole Wyll and Astarion would probably have killed each other in different circumstances) and he's interested in your success in the mission, nothing more or less. And let's be honest, considering that he didn't even want to be in this situation in the first place, he's actually very friendly and nice to you, manipulations aside... Manipulations by the way to make you save the world/yourself, which you'd have wanted to do anyway he just helped point you in the right way and guide you to get there faster

But in the end you can genuinely have a friendship with him, it's just that people disregard his feelings because of some sort of idealized idea of friendship where you must be huggy huggy and message each other daily. I am great friends with someone with whom I haven't talked to in like 3-4 months... Does that mean we're not good friends? We don't message each other enough? To me The Emperor would be this kind of friend and that's okay, you'll visit him like once or twice a year, have some conversation and then leave, maybe write letters every now and then, you both value each other's life and that's it, friendship acquired

This accidentally became a post about how his feelings are genuine >:c He doesn't strike me as the "master manipulator" like haters make him out to be, The Emperor is a business nerd with zero social skills who needs therapy and my Tav can fix him, I sincerely believe that if you've been friendly to him the whole game he is genuine when at the end of the game he says he'll miss you... You're one of the only non-illithid to have not treated him like shit and didn't betray him and chose someone else's life over his when you had the chance, you accepted him for what he is and was nice/professional about it. And if you've become a Mind Flayer then obviously he's elated that he's gonna have a buddy to talk to, someone of his own new race who would understand him the best in a way others wouldn't

Okay rambling over, feel free to continue scrolling Tumblr uwu

[alpaca-clouds]

The Problem with Alignments

With me now playing a lot more DnD, I really want to talk about the Alignment System. Because on one hand I like it - but on the other hand there is a big problem with it.

Let me illustrate by telling you about my first experience with DnD (outside of Neverwinter Nights and the old Baldur's Gate games) was with a really bad DM. A DM who very well managed to make DnD very unfun. For one, because he insisted that we had to role for simple things like player interaction. But also... Because he kept telling us, what our characters would do. This did not only afflict me, but all players. But let me tell you about my experience.

I chose to play a true neutral wizard, who was a bit removed from humanity, after having lived as an hermit for several years. And this lead to the following constant interaction: "Oh, your character would not do that. Because he is true neutral character, so he will never pick a side."

Of course, this also betrays a very misunderstanding of what true neutral means within the game. And in general it is a shitty thing for a DM to just tell you how to play your character. But it also betrays the problem with the alignment and some people see it: As something that is prescriptive, rather than descriptive. Yes, it is supposed to give you some idea how your character might act - but in the end it is still your character.

Especially because... Actions in of themselves do not necessarily say something about good and bad.

Let me talk about my Tav from BG3 for this one. See, my Tav tends to go out of his way to leave people - including the bad guys, that I can get away with in this regard - alive, much to the annoyance of Astarion, who really wants to murder some people. xD In fact, my Tav will at times try to work with the bad guys - as long as it does not mean killing anyone. Which could mean he was somewhere along the neutral alignment. But that is actually not how I play him. I play him as a good person, who wants to do right by everyone. Someone, that thinks, that pretty much everyone has good in them and should be able to do good. Hence, he tries to get everyone to do good.

And stuff like that is very possible, of course. More so on an actual table (if you have a good DM), of course, than in a game where the developers really cannot predict every single player decision.

For example, you also could play an evil character, who is very much for letting everyone live, because he reasons that them living will lead to greater suffering for them.

But therein lies the issue. We often have these preformed notion on what good and evil are. And that often can lead to hempering the roleplay - especially with less experienced players.

And then there is the other issue. The issue that has probably been discussed to death already. And that is the thing about species being prescribed a certain alignment in general. We had that whole discussion about orcs, drow and the inherent racist implication of the "those are always evil" thing going on. Which is why this was of course removed by now, at least for player species. But... We still have this thing as a rule of thumb going for species that are generally not accessible to players.

Given my current Themberchaud obsession, let me take chromatic dragons as an example. In general red dragons are assumed to be evil. As in: it is their nature to be cruel and greedy and all of that. And I say... that makes for kinda shitty storytelling.

Because here is the thing: Even someone whose first instinct it is to do bad... can do good. In fact that makes for a lot of interesting character beats.

I actually think that this where BG3 really shines. Lae'zel and Astarion are both evil. But depending on how you interact with them they can both be good people by the end of the game. Yes, for Astarion doing bad and being cruel is kinda his first instinct - but he can actually act against that instinct. And that is actually what makes him such a compelling character.

And that kinda is my issue with the alignment chart. Yes, you can make such compelling stories - but I also know that a lot of people that are inexperienced roleplayers will take their chosen alignment as a form of gospel and then just never have the character challenge it.

Which is really what I see as an issue there. Because... Well, given that we know and want characters to have a development... Why not just abandon the alignment chart?