#Astarion is a little shit

[ishtadawnstar]

Awkward...

As he turned another page in his book, Astarion's attention was drawn by heavy footsteps approaching the campfire. His eyes followed Lae'zel's determined stride as she made her way towards Ishta, who sat idly poking at the fire with a stick. A hint of firelight glinted in her eyes as she stared pensively into the flames.

A knowing smile played on Astarion's lips as he shifted slightly, angling himself for a better view without being too obvious. Lae'zel rarely sought out conversation, and when she did, it was always worth listening to.

"I have a confession," announced Lae'zel, her tone devoid of hesitation or emotion.

Ishta blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard by Lae'zel's unexpected statement. "You do?" she asked, tilting her head inquisitively.

Astarion couldn't help but be intrigued. Lae'zel and confessions? This was going to be interesting - apparently the evening's entertainment wasn't over quite just yet. He settled into a more comfortable position, one hand resting against his cheek as he pretended to be engrossed in his book, all the while listening intently to their conversation.

Without hesitation, Lae'zel continued, her voice measured but with an underlying intensity. "I was too hasty to judge you," she admitted. "I thought you were witless, gutless, unimpressively bland."

Astarion nearly lost his composure right then and there. He could feel the laughter bubbling up inside him, but he bit down on his lip, forcing it back. If Lae'zel caught even the faintest hint of a laugh, she'd be on him in an instant, and Astarion had no desire to test her temper tonight.

Ishta's expression shifted from confusion to bemusement, clearly not expecting this turn of events. "Can I assume a compliment is coming?" she quipped with a light tone, though there was a hint of wariness in her eyes.

"I don't pay compliments. I only say what is true," Lae'zel replied without missing a beat.

Astarion's smirk deepened. Ishta had walked right into that one. He could see her mentally scrambling, trying to navigate the conversation that was clearly not going the way she expected.

"So what about now?" Ishta asked tentatively, her voice softer as she tried to gauge where this confession was heading.

Lae'zel squared her shoulders, her gaze unwavering as she spoke. "Now, you've earned my respect, and more still. You've proven your wits. You are efficient and dominant, in and out of battle. You've proven your courage. I swear, you would tear the horns off one dragon to plunge into another. And you're hardly bland. Your scent alone is enough to make my neck sweat and my hairs stand on end."

Astarion had to bite down on his knuckle to keep silent, while Ishta, completely oblivious to the underlying meaning, furrowed her brow, concern clearly etched on her face. She leaned back slightly, her fingers tightening around the stick she held as if it might somehow offer her some clarity.

"If you're having some kind of allergic reaction to being around elves," Ishta offered, her voice filled with genuine concern, "I might be able to mix a tonic for you. Crag Cat's sometimes have the same reaction to the scent of Dwarves."

That was too much. Astarion felt his chest starting to cramp up from the sheer effort of keeping his laughter contained. The utter cluelessness, the sheer earnestness of her offer - this was better than he could have imagined. Lae'zel, however, was not deterred.

"It is not a tonic that I desire," Lae'zel stated bluntly, taking a deliberate step closer to Ishta, her eyes fixed on her with an almost predatory focus. "I will be plain: I desire you. I want to taste you. Perhaps tonight. Perhaps later. But I want it all the same."

Astarion watched as Ishta's face went from concerned to completely flustered in a matter of seconds. The stick she had been holding slipped from her fingers, tumbling into the fire with a soft hiss, and her face turned an interesting shade of pink as she finally started to understand what Lae'zel was saying. Her gaze darted around the camp as if searching for an escape, and when her eyes landed on Astarion, he felt her mental shout slam into his mind with a force that was almost physical.

"Help! What do I say?!"

Astarion stared into Ishta's wide, panic filled eyes, his face now half-buried in the book to hide his grin.

"How in the hells should I know?" he responded, hoping the glee wasn't too apparent in his mental 'voice'.

"I think she wants to uh... sleep with me."

It was getting harder and harder to hold back. Astarion's eyes were watering now, his entire body trembling with the effort of stifling his laughter.

"Well done," he mentally applauded. "You've grasped the basics of the mysteries of Githyanki flirting. It would seem your little display of temper earlier has stoked her fires."

"But I don't see her in that way!" Ishta's mental voice was tinged with desperation.

"Then tell her that," Astarion suggested, his amusement clear even in his thoughts.

"I don't want to die..."

He rolled his eyes behind the cover of his book, though his grin was still firmly in place. "Then don't tell her that."

Ishta's mental sigh was almost tangible, thick with exasperation. "Oh, thanks a lot, Astarion."

"My pleasure," he replied with a smirk, enjoying the chaos of it all. "Now get out of my head."

Astarion couldn't help but revel in the irony of the situation. This bold and confident Ranger, who had just hours earlier cowed two seasoned warriors with the sheer force of her strength and fury, was now left completely flustered and at a loss for words by the Gith's straightforward proposition. He watched intently as Ishta took a deep breath, her body tense as if preparing for a battle far more daunting than any they had faced together.

As she began to speak, Astarion noticed her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. "Lae'zel, I am... very flattered," she started awkwardly, searching for her words. "But I, um... I don't really think of you in that way. At all. Sorry, but the answer is no."

Astarion observed Lae'zel's reaction with rapt attention. Though her expression remained stoic, there was a slight tightening of her jaw and a flicker of something behind her eyes - disappointment, perhaps? She then responded in a low and firm tone, "Your loss, I fear. One day soon, you will wonder how my lips might have tasted, how my fingers on your skin might have felt. And you will wish you could return to this lost moment."

With one last lingering look, Lae'zel turned sharply on her heel and strode away with her usual rigid posture, though Astarion could detect a faint tension in her movements.

Meanwhile, Ishta slumped in her seat, letting out a long, shaky breath as she ran a hand through her hair. It was clear that she was relieved to have survived the encounter. "Oh, I'm fairly certain I won't," she muttered to herself while rubbing her temple.

Astarion couldn't hold it in any longer. A small, involuntary snort of laughter escaped him, the sound cutting through the quiet night air. Ishta's head whipped around, her eyes narrowing as she shot him a glare that could have melted steel.

Astarion quickly raised the book to cover his face, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter as he tried to stifle the giggles that were now threatening to escape. He peeked over the edge of the book, meeting Ishta's exasperated gaze with a look of pure, unrepentant amusement.

"Well, darling," he murmured, his voice barely audible, "this has been the most delightful evening."

Ishta scowled and picked up another stick, stabbing it into the fire with jerky movements as if taking out her embarrassed frustration on the embers. Her voice dripped with biting sarcasm as she stared moodily into the flames. "So glad I could provide you with entertainment."

Astarion lowered the book to his chest and leaned back languidly on the pile of cushions behind him. Resting both hands behind his head, he smirked at Ishta and drawled, "Indeed. I have to say that was one of the most entertaining things I have witnessed in quite some time."

In response, Ishta simply raised one hand and flipped him the middle finger.

I love writing the dynamic between these two...

I think I'm basing their relationship on a mixture of Daniel and Vala from SG1 and Booth and Brennan from Bones. The frienemies part is definitely Spike and Angel though...

[littleskrib]

Touch

|16052024

| based on "Perfect Slaughter" by @imagineitdearies

reader discretion is advised, pls read the tags before checking it out

-

You want to see WIPs, exclusive content and artworks earlier? Consider supporting me on Patreon ✨

[valc0]

"Jealous?" "Not one bit..."

[lazylittledragon]

Ok but would Astarion have ACTUALLY been a good partner when kit was born or would he just be a flailing mess

i was going to do something silly for this but honestly?? i think he'd be completely fine

like we know from durge that he's very capable of being there when his love is going through something awful (and he would be Very loud about dorian being respected)

also he's definitely experienced being in pain and having nobody for comfort so i think he would want to be that as best he could even if he's not warm and fuzzy about it

[patroclusdefencesquad]

"why would you let astarion feed on you it gives you a disadvantage" yes but it makes him "happy" and that's what really matters here

[baldurspeen69420]

After doing Astarion's romance route doing Gale's is a trip

Astarion most of the game: "Yeah I think I genuinely like you and all, but why do we need labels? Let's just see where this goes and put a pause on the sex for a minute, alright?"

Gale, immediately after sleeping with you: "Good morning did I ever tell you I love you and you're the most amazing person I ever met?? Hahaha. I love you soooo much. I've already named our first two children and here's a drawing I made of our wedding last night. Did I mention I love you?? God last night was so great I don't even want to kill myself anymore. Also when I nutted I realized Mystra isn't actually that great, fuck her actually. I love you. Where are you going? Can I come? I lo-"

[sadmages]

Gale stabilizing all 3 party members from death after not getting hit himself at all and then dropping this bomb while everyone's on the verge of death. So funny of him

[mischiefwife]

Hey, think twice before supporting the BG3 Stardew mod.

Saw this nice looking Stardew Valley mod with BG3 characters, pretty quickly knew something was off when you see Halsin/Astarion/Rolan front and center with no mention of Wyll at all.

Then we get this whopper of a cry post, maybe suggesting they can't be anti-black because they're not white? They can't show misogyny cause they're women? They can't be blamed at all because they're just polling their PATREON votes? Fucking do better. Can't even hide behind the usual excuse that it's a free fanwork, it's not.

Fandom's got a racism and misogyny problem. Step up and draw the line with these creators crying victim when asked 'where's Wyll?' (And yes I checked, the replies are 90% positive and 10% where's Wyll, where's the women) when you've already fully developed your random minor npc first. Team members being made uncomfortable translates to being called out for contributing to a lil' racism.

The misogyny hydra and the racism in fandom runs deep i know, but for the love of fuck can we push back against it?

Or you can side with the mod's supporters (this is one of the devs actually lol). Who post things like this.

And the creators don't say a fucking thing at all about it, they just keep playing victim. It would be so easy to approach this system with a SMIDGEN of respect, just acknowledging the racism at all. Seriously BG3 fandom. Demand better.

I don't give a shit if they're the most popular, there's also a REASON why Wyll is not. But if you want to just eat this shit up and contribute making your fandom shitty and uninviting, by all means.

[down4acount]

I refuse to draw Gale in his old man pjs again

[marimosalad]

SAURONDRIEL CODED 🔥🔥🔥👏👏👏

“Loathing:” Chapter 2 to the ETL Astarion X Tav fic “Our Blood is Thicker”

Astarion x F!Tav (OC) | E | 6k of angst / longing

Summary: He is darker, different, and for Cordehlia he is a constant reminder of what was. As their journey continues, truths come to light in the dark, and blood will be shed. Willingly and unwillingly.

Stargazing scene, Bite Scene, finding the Gur hunter

CW: blood, biting, jealousy and angst, manipulation and memories, slow burn feelings (that Astarion is bad with), bloodlust and regular lust, OC gets defensive of her newly found again love/hate interest

Previous Chapter | Read on AO3 | Master List

💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞

Restless. The night was restless. Well, not wholly. She did meditate deeply, enough to regain her strength, to rest her mind. But, as always, it was the dreams, plaguing her mind. For Cordehlia, it was probably more rife with ghosts than usual.

Every night is restless when you hear the echoes of battle and nurse the wounds of your heart.

All night, all she could feel was the cold, all she could see was crimson eyes and toothsome smiles. Her ears were filled with his voice, muffled, muted. He had whispered in her mind all night, words she remembered him offering her ages long ago… sweet, words like nectar, lapping at her wounded heart, promising himself to her, hers forever, until they found one another again in their next life… words that purred of her beauty, poetry that likened her hair as brighter than the flames, her eyes more captivating than the stars, her sex sweeter than honey from the comb…

That was when her eyes had flashed opened at last, waking to the grey light of dawn and a dying fire in the camp. Waking to find herself the first one stirring.

Nearly.

Except for him… where he perched outside his tent, looking over the pages of a book. His bright eyes ringed in shadows, as he stared at her, watching her eyes open, her body stretching and shifting.

His lip twitched slightly, a knowing smile as their eyes locked. Did he know how restless he made her… did he know how real her dreams were…

That’s when he stood. So graceful, so balanced. A true fighter, a true rogue. And, by the hells, so beautiful in the dawn. It was what he was made for, she always thought, to shine like the stars that still break the morning light. But that hardness still stiffened his face, his eyes still exacting and harsh. For a moment, Cordehlia thought he would approach, thought he would saunter over and wish her a good morning… but he stalked away to the treeline, the noises of the other companions catching her ear as they also woke in the dawn.

They each began to rise, the Wizard grabbing some of the goods collected, making a rough breakfast for everyone. He grunted as he lifted the pot to hang over the fire Karlach had stoked back up.

The backache of sleeping on the ground was nothing unfamiliar to Cordehlia, but still… unpleasant. She huffed as she stood, and while her body moved towards the rest of the group, her eyes kept scanning for Astarion.

Always in her thoughts, even when she wanted him out.

She sighed, folding her arms and nodding as Gale spoke about the Emerald Grove, a good next place to seek out cures and allies perhaps.

As the meager porridge was ladled into the various, mismatched bowls that made up the camp’s dishes, she couldn’t help but notice that he had not returned. Even for food.

“Looking for your old friend?” Gale asked, his voice quiet and soft as he sat next to her by the fire.

“He’s no friend,” she commented, blowing the steam from her food before trying it.

“He needs to be one now,” he replied, doing the same over his breakfast. “I suspect there is more to him than he wishes anyone to know, maybe even especially you, given your… history.”

She swallowed loudly, trying to lose herself in the pain of the hot food down her gullet than the ache in her heart that came from such matters. “History is often rife with pain and loss, Wizard,” she hissed. “I should know, I’ve lived centuries watching it… committing it.” She felt his eyes focus on the side of her face, but she would not give an inch as she spoke. “The long memory of the elves is their greatest joy and their deepest sorrow, Gale.”

“Mortals may not know hundreds of years at a time, but I do know of joy and sorrow too, my friend,” he whispered. “And if we have any hope of finding a cure, a way forward, we need him.”

A heavy sigh came from her little frame. “I know,” she muttered.

“And maybe, just maybe, you will find your way back to one another. Don’t you elves feel yourselves bound by blood?”

“Pfft, hardly,” she scoffed, turning an amused if skeptical glance at the mortal. “At least not with him.” She looked away quickly, hoping it was fast enough not to show the pricking tear in her eye. “That connection forged when we trothed beneath the stars was severed centuries ago.” Another sigh, so heavy her shoulders drooped. “Washed away by grief and spite like the rain waters.”

“Hmm,” Gale gave a considerate pause. Thinking. The man was always thinking. “It is a phrase humans have, that blood is thicker than water, not sure you’ve heard that one.”

Cordehlia arched one brow. “At my age, I’ve heard it all.” A wry smile teased at her lips at last. “But I appreciate the timely, apropos application, dear Wizard.”

“Happy to be of service, my lady,” he bowed his head.

But the She-elf instantly bristled.

“O-oh…” Gale sputtered. “I meant no disrespect, I…”

“Just… Cordehlia,” she muttered back. “No titles, no accolades. You can just use my name.” Her voice was flat, her muscles clenched, even as she smiled.

“It’s a beautiful name,” Gale nodded, eyes wide and soft. Relieved.

“Yes…” a voice chimed in from behind them both, where they sat side by side. “I thought so too, once it came creeping back to my memory.”

Astarion.

He perched behind, grinning that knowing, half-twisted smile as they both spun their heads. “At least… I’ll always be your first, darling,” he purred.

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, just a twitch. Enough of a tell to goad him on, she realized.

“The first to know your true name, that is…” he added, sweeping down to sit beside the She-elf in that fluid and elegant motion of his.

“Knowing one’s name is not the same as knowledge of the person,” Cordehlia snapped, her hackles raised as Astarion reached across her lap to help himself to the bowl of piping hot porridge she had set down the second he appeared.

“Smells atrocious, Gale…” he raised the spoon, sticking out his tongue to give the tan gloop a lick, one far too sensual for its own good. “Tastes horrible,” he added before setting it back down. “Couldn't you have magicked something better?”

Gale just stared back, wry and disbelieving at his arrogance. “You’re welcome to try your luck at cooking for the camp next time, Astarion.”

“And possibly singe these perfect hands? Get food under my nails?” He gagged as he finished his whining. “I’d rather eat something raw…”

Something about the way he replied made Cordehlia stare at him just a little harder. His lip turned at the corner of his mouth. As if he thought himself terribly witty. The same glint shined in his eyes, a sparkle of mischief and self-indulgent humor. Just like it always had when he was up to something.

“Well,” Gale stood, clearly done with the Elf’s presence. “Since I’ve had my fill, I think I’ll get my things ready for our journey. Emerald Grove isn’t going to explore itself for a cure, you know.”

She could feel his look still on her as the wizard stood, trying to read her inscrutable expression. With a sigh, he relented trying to puzzle out his companion and left.

“Good riddance,” Astarion hummed, sliding his lithe body just a hint closer to where she still sat. “Let’s hope he’s better at magic than his cooking, my dear.”

“Would it kill you to try to be kind, Astarion?” She snapped, turning her head to face him at last.

“I am being kind,” he crooned, leaning just a bit closer, “you tasted that gruel, I could have said so many more dreadful things, you know.”

She snorted, her own dark humor tickled as he elbowed her in the arm. And even as he smiled back with those strange, red eyes squinting at her, it was the same shine, the same glint and the same creases that had always warmed her heart.

Dammit.

Then, his hand came to rest atop of hers. Where she had it splayed into the dirt beside her.

Just like he always used to.

For a second she closed her eyes, the shine of those happy days giving the chill in her heart a warmth of happiness. Of connectedness.

But it was a lie.

At least something was a lie, she realized as she ripped her hand out from the heavy, cold weight of his touch.

“What’s wrong, darling?” He hummed, “I thought you were all for getting to know one another again.”

Her voice was direct, steady and calm. “Then you can start by telling me the truth of what happened, when you’re ready of course. Until then,” she stood, brushing the pine needles from her breeches. “Until then, you’ll excuse me if I bide my time trusting you with more than watching my back in battle.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, politely, but through gritted teeth.

“And I hope, personally, our next adventure leads us to looting a pair of gloves for you, if you’re going to insist on touching me. Hells below, Astarion, the chill of ice seems to always be on your hands.”

“A wise idea,” he smirked slightly. Darkly. “Such insight for a seasoned fighter such as yourself.”

Cordehlia shook her head, leaving him at her feet. Feeling his gaze on her as she moved quickly away.

That gaze stayed on her all day. She could feel it. Observing. Assessing. Scanning her strengths and weaknesses. Gleaning details of how she fought, how she persuaded aid from any strangers they met, how she could leap and tumble and sneak with an ease remarkable even for her kind.

He followed in her wake all day, covering her back in battle just as she had asked.

And she knew it was his intention. The little ways he caught her eye during their fights, nodding as he removed obstacles behind them… ahead of them… dealing the heaviest, most damaging blows of any of their party.

If he was one of her men, she would have promoted him. Would have gone weak in the knees at his prowess. Gifted him with all her favors at his brutality, his vigor.

But he was not hers to command.

He was not hers… at all.

Her mind swirled with such memories and dreams, fighting to keep the most lustfilled ones as far from her mind as possible.

Which was only harder and harder to do as they all prepared the camp at nightfall again. Especially when she stumbled on him near his tent, lounging back on a bedroll, gazing with such wonder at the burst of stars that speckled the sky.

Cordehlia tiptoed closer, drawn by his relaxation. Remembering so many nights of doing the same, together.

“Coming to join me?” he purred, just a glance of his eyes to where she stood before they trained back into the heavens.

“I…” she began, but the way he scooted himself to make room on the leather and blankets, it was just… too much to resist.

Gods help me, she prayed. Nestling down alongside him, not so close they touched. But still too close for her to ignore that scent that clung around him now. Sharp and aromatic. Citrus and herbs.

Swallowing, she dismissed how it made her mouth water.

“Glad to see you come to your senses, darling,” he spoke just loud enough for her to hear without straining.

“You looked comfortable,” she offered as a reply. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You do more than just disturb me,” he sneered. “I have never felt more… unsettled. Confused. I have never felt freer, unchained from my enslavement, and yet…” he rolled on his side, narrowing his gaze at where she laid beside him. Her silver eyes like stars themselves as she stared into the lights above. Those heavenly mirrors her brightness. “What I… suffered… it made it impossible to remember things… about me from before. I have endured horrors. Torture. Centuries of darkest anguish. It was simply easier to find peace in feeling numb than clinging to… anything from before.”

He meant her. Easier than remembering her.

He scoffed softly, watching as she just kept her eyes above. But he could feel her breath burning in her lungs as she held it. Frightened to hear what more he might say. Frightened to scare him away.

“I would hate for us to part ways so soon, you know. Once we find the next… solution… to our parasite friends, will this all be over? Is this it?”

She breathed at last. “It doesn’t have to be, I suppose,” her voice was shaking. Gentle.

“Good,” he smirked before reaching to brush a single strand of her fiery red hair off her cheek. “Because you are quite the ally, quite the commander. You’ve survived so much, just like me, traversing Avernus, surviving the crash, surviving everything that has followed.”

His fingers brushed her cheek one more time, making her turn to finally meet his suggestive stare. And then he smiled, that half smirk that just pulled his face a little sharper, that made his eyes glow and glint with the passion inside him. “You are quite impressive too, you know…” he murmured as they locked eyes.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, her belly rising and falling beneath her resting hands just a bit quicker. “You’re assuming I think you’re impressive as well, Astarion…”

“I have no need to assume, darling. I know,” he preened, that arrogance coloring his words, making them drip with pride. With seduction. “I know I’m impressive. And I know you already think it, darling. No one smiles that much in battle when your eyes lock into mine. No one’s heart beats so quickly at the slightest touch of my fingers over their skin if they don’t think I’m at least a tinge… impressive.”

And just to prove his point, he reached for her neck, ghosting his fingertips over it, her pulse pounding in her veins so hard, it must deafen her.

Her brow raised slightly, eyes sharp as she scanned his face. “You’re staring,” she murmured.

“Of course I am,” he eased into a smile. “Why wouldn’t I?” He stood to his feet gracefully and quickly. “But after gazing at such beauty, I think I’ll get some air, clear my head so as not to forget completely about the horrible parasite that swims in my mind.” He waved his long, elegant fingers at her where she still laid at his feet. “I’ll see you later I’m sure…”

“I’m sure,” she called after him, still staring into the sky, refusing to watch him tread into the forest. But she couldn’t help but add a little something more. Something sharper than those soft words he tried to whisper into her ear. “You look horrible, Astarion, don’t miss dinner later. You look like you need a good meal and a good rest.”

He stopped in his tracks, glancing over his broad and sloping shoulder. “Maybe I do…” he seemed to bristle as she refused to look at him. “Thank you for being so observant, my friend,” he chimed, if a bit sarcastically.

“Here to help,” she turned at last.

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, darling,” he flashed her the fullness of his smirk, his canted brows and shining eyes.

She shrugged, a muted smile in return. “Thank you,” she added just before he began to turn. “For telling me a bit more of… what happened. I can see the pain when you speak of it, but I do not want you to think me.. ungrateful for the truth.”

He nodded his head, just once, before turning on his heel and heading for the trees.

Dinner came and went. Conversation turned unavoidably towards the fact that the mercurial rogue of the group still hadn’t returned.

Shadowheart laughed. “Well, didn’t he say he would rather eat something raw than suffer Gale’s cooking once more?” She sniffed a laugh through her little nose. “I wouldn’t put it past him with just how… vicious… he seems…”

Karlach gave her burst of a belly laugh in reply. “Sounds like someone has taken a fancy to the pale pretty boy!”

Gale’s eyes widened, his head snapping to check on Cordehlia. Her face was gaunt, even as she gave a laugh and made her full, pink lips smile. “You know,” he cleared his throat, “our leader, Cordehlia has a history with the Elf, isn’t that right?”

“Ancient history,” she added, a musical tone in her voice. One that seemed unnatural and forced. “But that is most of how time is measured for the Elves…”

“Oh,” Shadowheart stopped her mirth for a moment, “I am sorry. I didn’t know…”

“It is no matter,” the She-elf shook her head, the picture of reassurance.

Someone settled down in the circle of light. Tossing his silver hair, Astarion looked so very pleased with himself, sitting himself right between the cleric and Cordehlia, throwing them each a glance that bled conceit and oozed flirtation. “Don’t you worry,” he leaned back on his hand, lounging as if all eyes weren’t staring at him… amused, or jealous, or irritated, “I am a man of tremendous appetites. There’s enough of me to go around…”

The wizard gave an uncomfortable cough, as if he cleared his throat. “Umm, well, I’m turning in for the night,” Gale stood, dumping out the rest of his stew into the fire before leaving. But not without a concerned glance at the She-elf… not before he watched her face stiffen with all due stoicism, her eyelids fluttering rapidly as if she wasn’t thinking about reaching for her weapon to inflict some equal pain.

He sniffed, angrily… dismissively… before he left.

“I’m turning in too,” the She-elf followed the same procedure, remnants of her meal on the fire before she retreated to her bedroll nearby.

She tried not to look behind her.. tried to ignore the way he looked at her. The way that cleric seemed to give him a flirtatious if taunting smile. Dismissing the knots in her stomach and the enraged rapping of her pulse.

Second time today he made her heart feel like it would burst. And not for the same cause.

He was aggravating. Unbearable. So soft and yet provoking. Making her angry and aroused all at once. Perhaps that was the same as before between them. But that darkness, that delight he seemed to get from making her suffer, that twisted joy from forcing her feelings to ebb and flow at his will… it made every hair on her head tingle with suspicion, with dread. A reminder he was not as he always was.

She grit her teeth, trying to keep her mouth soft and her eyes open, even as all she wanted to do was scream and shove them both face first in the dirt. That lascivious rake of an elf and that powerful, if vapid, cleric.

But her body relented, drawn by the comfort of her bedroll. Maybe a little extra rest would help calm this bile that rose in her throat, she thought. Tucked int, she tried to chase away the memories of the past, turning over all the hints and clues to cures that came up over these last days.

At last, once all she could hear was the hiss and pop of the fire, her mind drifted away, thinking of the stars… of how they shined like his eyes once did… deep violet like the night, those gold and silver flecks in them like the lights themselves….

It made her hand search for a little something she had stowed away under her sheets.

As her fingers wrapped around her weapon, she breathed easier. Rest finally taking her under. Letting her soar. Until… something broke into her peace, a shadow that blocked the starlight.

And that’s when she woke.

His mouth hung above her, bearing down on her with fangs glinting in the fire. The second she stirred, he froze. Caught.

“Shit,” he hissed, he kept his arms framed over her head, his body still dangerously close. “Well, I was sure you’d figure out the truth sooner or later…” he purred, rubbing the tip of his tongue over his fang points.

That’s when he noticed something prodding into his ribs. The point of a stake in her hand, she smiled brightly up at him. “Sooner was the safer bet, old friend. Vampire. You never were skilled at being subtle… or planning ahead.”

“Or keeping your hands off pointy sticks,” he chuckled, grabbing her hand where she fisted the stake. “You’re more insightful than I gave you credit for, and I already admire you a lot, darling…”

“Oh please, it doesn’t take centuries of a life and years of battle to piece out your mysterious disappearance or why your eyes are crimson…why you’re colder than death or why you have yet to sit and eat a full meal with the rest of us.”

“Beautiful and brilliant,” he purred, still unrelenting as he caged her body. “It’s not what you think, however. I’m not a monster. I only feed on animals, boars and the like… but with all this fighting you've made me do, I’m just too slow… too weak. I haven’t been able to catch a decent meal for days because of how much you’ve pushed me.”

He was pouting. Eyes wide and wet, the perfect image of pleading innocence.

“Since it’s your demanding nature that has made me so hungry, I thought it only fair to come to you for a… solution. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer… fight better…”

“So you decide to lay the blame at my feet? To creep into my bed, deciding that I will just say yes to you because of our history?” Her eyes are wide and shining. Bright with rage. “You promise to make the effort to get to know one another as we are… you make absolute certain I find your every attack, every parry in battle utterly perfect… you touch me… flirting… then trying unsuccessfully to turn me green with envy by casting your attentions on the cleric…”

She snapped the last word, making him flash those fangs at her again.

“Well…” he breathed, “can you blame me? You are being rather stubborn… as you always have been, darling Cordehlia…”

Her hand struggled against his grip on her weapon, fighting as he pried it from her fingers, tossing it into the fire with a hiss of flame. Her breathing grew rough and ragged, that empty hand closing into a balled up fist. She pummeled it against his chest. “You say you’re not a monster,” she hissed, “you’re not giving me a lot of grounds otherwise.”

“Some females like monsters,” he lowered himself on her a little more. “Some crave the danger, the thrill of the hunt, the excitement of being devoured…” he softened his mouth. “Not that I have tasted anything other than vermin.”

“Save your breath,” she hissed. “I hate everything that you’ve become, Astarion.”

He gave a chilling smirk. All honey and sweetness in his voice, even as his eyes seemed to catch the fire to glow a brilliant red. “So be it, but I’m not going hungry tonight. I will be quenching my thirst one way or another.” He purred, lowering his mouth beside her straining neck, licking the curve of her pointed ear. “And don’t you want it to be from you, after everything we've been through?”

He felt so heavy, even with all his danger and threat… even if he could rip her throat out and drink her dry. Part of her heart was beating in her chest that he wouldn’t, couldn’t do that. But her mind raced. The reality of his words, his sweet lies shrouding that history between them. Loathing did burn bright inside her. But her body still melted into his. “Why do you keep referring to what was ours? Our past, our history… our love… You can’t even recall it…”

His hand wound behind her neck, those long fingers tangling into those fiery strands of her head. “I’m beginning to… I’d like to remember everything, but I won’t if I’m so hungry, I can’t think… I’ll never remember you if I die in a fight because you didn’t let me feed.” His eyes softened, his icy touch making shivers run up her spine. “I may not recall everything, but you, darling, you can. And I think it would break that poor starlight-kissed soul of yours if it was a certain cleric that I drank from tonight in your place… darling.”

Her chest heaved. Her own teeth gritted and bared as she struggled to decide. “Fine,” she sneered. “Fuck you, Astarion.”

“Now that was more in line with my thinking,” he rasped, placing a kiss on the ivory skin of her neck. “I’ll stash that suggestion away for later consideration, darling, but first things first.”

It was colder than ice. Sharper. Deadlier. The piercing of her flesh made her shiver but not in fear.

In ecstasy.

His lips sucked on her wounds, gentle and loud, deafening as he took swallow after swallow from her body. She could almost see it, feeling it as her blood filled him. Feeding him. Strengthening him. Making him full and hard and virile.

“That’s enough,” she snapped, hiding the moan in her voice as a grunt. Faking the pain to hide her pleasure.

The commanding tone made him slide right off, the vampire shuffled to his feet. His fingers dabbed the corner of his mouth, keeping most of that trickle of her blood for her to savor its sight as it cut down the pale skin of his chin. “My mind is clear. I feel strong, I feel… happy…”

“I feel bitten and bloodletted,” she hissed, getting to her feet too, chest rising and falling as she panted.

“You’re fine, darling,” he purred, contented like a cat bathing in sunshine. “Now, as delectable as you were, I’ll need something more substantial than your blood.” He trod towards the treeline, pausing to speak softly over his shoulder. “This is a gift, dearest Cordehlia. This, I won’t forget…. for all I have forgotten.”

He crept into the woods, somehow more silently, feral and strong. The predator out to hunt.

And as Cordehlia settled back down in her bed, she knew sleep would not come the rest of the night.

Not with how her thighs shook and her neck stung. But at least she could rest.

And try not to remember the way his kiss caressed her neck, even if it was while drinking from her veins.

As dawn began to seep its light over the trees, she heard him return. A deep sigh in his sated throat as Astarion returned to his tent.

Cordehlia fought through the woozy haze to stand. His eyes found her easily in the dim light as she slowly approached him. “Good morning,” he smiled politely, as if he hadn’t just hours ago snuck into her bed and sliced her with his fangs. “How do you feel?”

“What do you think?” She sneered softly. “Lightheaded from the literal pain in the neck you’ve given me.”

“Tch,” he grinned and sucked his teeth, conceited and rife with his pride. “It’ll pass. Just be glad I’m but a weak little spawn and not a true vampire. A bite from one of them might kill you… if you’re lucky.”

Her brows furrowed. “Spawn you might be, but not weak.” She corrected him, even before she realized the kind affect her words would have on him.

“Well…” he coughed, hiding how he was taken aback. “I appreciate the sentiment, even if in reality all I have of a vampire’s experience is their unquenchable hunger, and precious few of their powers.”

“Then why haven’t you done me the favor, then, of bursting into flames when the sunlight hits your flawless skin?” She taunted, a laugh in her voice, even as she needled him.

Her humor did not go unnoticed by the vampire. “Oh, I should be cinders in this light, you’re right. These… parasites… someone, or something, has changed the rules. I shouldn’t be surprised if I can wade through rivers and sneak into houses uninvited.” His eyes flashed with that glint of seduction. “And as for my other… quirks… we can figure those out in time.” He bared his pointed fangs in the rising sun as he drew a bit closer to her. “A little… trial and error… I’m sure I could use some more of your help with…”

Her mouth flattened into a line, unamused outwardly, even if her eyes had just a hint of laughter as she looked up into his smirking face. “Perhaps, if you remain on your best behavior. That means, dear vampire, you feed on what you can hunt…”

His face drooped. “But…” he grimaced, more pain on his face than she had expected.

“But what?” she pushed. Just a tinge aggressively.

“Well, it’s just… my master did the same,” his reply eked out through clenched teeth. “I’ve spent two centuries barely fed, living on the vermin, the rats and mice and bugs he would allow me to eat. And now that I’m free, now that I’m basking in the sun, surrounded by friends and those who wish to help me…”

He turned those wide, soft, crimson eyes down on her. They brimmed with pain. And while she knew what he wanted, that he was using it to manipulate her, get her to agree to something more between them… She paused, searching into his face. He was lean, strong but small. But for once, his face looked full, those shadows beneath his eyes vanished, that gaunt, sickly edge to his cheeks and jaw rounded out.

The effects of her blood, she knew.

“Alright,” she relented, narrowing her eyes, commanding even in compromise. “Animals you hunt, and, if it truly makes a difference to your strength, your health…”

His head cocked slightly. Waiting.

“…you may feed on me. But only in secret, and only if you ask, and I accept you.”

“Of course,” he smiled. Truly smiled. “I’ll be gentle with you in the future, my darling,” he purred again. That rakish smirk twisting his handsome features. “I’m just glad you’re being so very sensible and thoughtful about these revelations. I feared stakes and torches and pitchforks, to be sure.”

As if on cue, the rest of the party, obviously woken by the conversation, approached.

“A vampire? Of course we are traveling with a vampire,” Gale chimed in, “Word of warning, I taste disgusting.”

“I’ll make you catch on fire, pretty boy,” Karlach added with a laugh. “Not joking.”

“I—” Shadowheart started with a chilling smile.

“None of you need worry,” Cordehlia interrupted before anything more came from the cleric’s mouth. “Astarion knows his rules, and if he wishes to keep himself in the good graces of the group, he will abide by them.”

“Oh my honor,” he placed a hand on his dead heart and bowed. “Now, who wants to see how many enemies I can decimate today? Since, after all, I can fight with all my weapons, teeth included…”

______________________

High sun found them creeping in the Grove, mists swirling as they searched for some wise woman… someone who might know how to remove these parasites before they took hold.

But something stank, and Cordehlia wrinkled her nose as they spotted a stranger in their path. Tall and scarred.

“Greetings, and pardon the smell,” he waved kindly. “Powdered iron vine,”

The metallic, sour stink was so strong, she could taste it on her tongue.

“It’s an old hunter’s trick...” he grinned and patted his leather vest. “Monsters usually give me a wide berth of comfort even as I pursue them.”

Astarion crept forward, sidling right behind Cordehlia, every muscle in his lean and lithe frame clenched and throbbed. “You're a monster hunter? I thought all Gur were vagrant cutthroats.”

He rippled with tension, Cordehlia could feel it, sense it swirling under his skin. Muscles bundled with tension, Astarion’s long and lithe fingers slowly creeping for the hilt of his blades at his back.

“What are you searching for, friend?” she smiled softly, flashing her bright elven eyes at the Gur, tucking her fiery hair behind her pointed ears.

She could feel Astarion lean in behind her ear. “Yes, work that elven charm… make him trust you.”

“Nothing so fearsome. Just a vampire spawn,” the stagger waved his hand. Dismissive. Underestimating.

The tips of her ears grew hot. That veil of red began to draw over her eyes. “When you’ve been in these realms as long as I have, you learn not to underestimate anything created out of malice and subjected to horrors.” She paused a moment, reaching behind her quickly, pressing her palm against Astarion’s rigid arm. “I’m sure a spawn could rip out your throat if he wanted to…”

“And he does want to, mind you,” he whispered into the back of her head.

“True,” the Gur nodded appreciatively, “spawn are only weak when compared to their masters.” He looked only at Cordehlia, who certainly looked the part of a helpful, curious hero. Batting her eyes and nodding her head encouragingly.

“I have not heard of many vampire spawn in the woods,” she giggled. Giggled. “And besides, you would be hard pressed to find one in the daylight. Near impossible,” she rounded to look at her band, her bell-like, merry laughter peeling among them all. Even as she gave a look to her rogue. Warning.

“To true again, lady of the fair folk,” the hunter added his own laugh. “But this one, Astarion, he is special. I’m to find him and bring him back to my people. I’m hoping the hag of these lands can help me flush him out…”

“He must be special if you are hoping to cut a deal of blood price just to find him,” she added. That laughter in her voice turned. It chilled the spine. “But if he is but a spawn as you say, why go to such effort? After all, are not monsters only creatures we perhaps do not understand, some are not born to the dark.” Her shoulders went rigid. Her voice beginning to turn sharper. Harsher. “Some are made into the monsters they become, and not of their own choosing.”

“I assure you,” the hunter began to match her tone. “A monster is far simpler than that. Unthinking, unfeeling, driven by the dark and fed by evil.”

Astarion held his breath, watching as her hand flexed and twitched behind her back.

“If that were true, it would sound like quite the threat,” now her teeth were gritted.

Astarion could hear her blood in her veins. Pounding. Beating. Raging for action. She turned towards him. “Hmm,” he met those piercing silver eyes, they swirled with lights, her skin flushed and hot as she stared. As if he could read her thoughts. “Maybe we should do something about this threat?”

The corner of her lip quirked slightly. Only for a moment. “My thoughts exactly. So glad you are so sensible, Astarion.”

“That’s…?” The Gur looked into the sky, the bright sun still filtering through the forest enough to turn a vampire to ash. “It can’t be. It’s…”

“Impossible?” Cordehlia gave another chilling giggle. “Maybe you judge your so-called monsters too harshly…”

“As the so-called monster, may I?” the vampire asked so prettily.

“No,” she replied, pulling her own blade from her hip. “Together?”

“Oh I think I see what I liked about you before…” a feral, wild smirk darkened his face. That smirk deepened at the glint that he caught in her eyes. That look of bloodlust, of twinkling aggression. A kindred spirit, he thought for the slightest second before his favorite part. Launching at the enemy, blades shining. Hearts racing. Most satisfying thing he thinks they could do side by side.

Most satisfying thing, for now.

[invinciblerodent]

btw yes, I'm also still stuck thinking about how in the cutscene at the start of the attack of Astarion's siblings, Astarion himself is standing right next to your bed.

Every time that scene is mentioned or brought up on my dash, I just keep thinking about how the bed the PC is shown using in the long rests (which seems to me like the top left one as you enter that side-room), and the one in which he's presumably been resting, are basically on the very opposite ends of the room.

like... sure, it already has me scratching at the walls to think about how, when unromanced, he probably felt something was wrong and went immediately to wake you and let you know (trust!!! friendship!!!), but it has me extra feral to think that he had abandoned the bed he had originally claimed in favor of yours, and was sprung from his lover's embrace by the arrival of his siblings. (Because you can't talk about cuddling, and cuddliness, and call yourself "cuddly Astarion" in the same scene, without actually cuddling sometimes lol.)

I kind of like to imagine that even on top of it being self-defense, springing to his feet so fast, there could also be something instinctively protective in the fact that he so quickly puts his own body between you and danger.

I mean,

right before the camera would focus on him, he's bent forward, snarling at them to get away, coiled to strike even unarmed (well. as unarmed as a vampire can be), and only relaxes into the conversation-pose when you stir, and Aurelia speaks.

And like, that doesn't feel like a conscious action, or even much of a purposeful decision from a mechanic standpoint (most likely the devs needed him to stand there-ish for there to be enough room for the PC to get up, and stand next to him for the conversation's camera angles to make sense), but I do like to imagine that at this point in the relationship, he just... acts without thinking, and puts himself into the more dangerous position on instinct. It lines up very nicely with that sweet, rather earnest line he says in the Wyrm's Lookout scene. (PC: "All that matters to me is that you're safe." Astarion: "I know you do. It matters to me, as well. I want to be able to protect you, too.")

... The rest of his "this is for us, this is to protect you, we're a team" lines are of course calculated, manipulative bullshit, and taking them at face value would be a mistake even if there is a kernel of truth at their core, but I think that one is genuine, and it's corroborated by this unthinking jump to your defense.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Please let Astarion meet Tav's family and have a younger sibling like 6 be like im gonna marry the prince points at Astarion.

Tav : Sorry, im married to the prince

NO IM GONNA MARRY THE PRINCE

That's so fucking cute kill me. But I just realized AFTER I finished it I read this wrong 😭😭 I read it as "marry" instead of "married" so whoops now it's an asking for your hand in marriage fic.

Also, I'm going to make this a weird little, unofficial, alternate reality, off shoot of this fic to explain away why Astarion can be in the sun without ascending because I am ~lazy~

Quick summary if you didn't read it, Tav serves Selune, gets a blessing for all the good work, and uses it to cure the anti-light issue of the vampirism (but not all of it). It's not a literal extension of that fic but I'm stealing my own plot explanations. That's it! Now here we go:

~

Astarion wasn't nervous per se. He was just... on edge. And the two-week journey it took to get here wasn't helping things, not when it gave him so much time to ruminate in his thoughts. He never expected to be in the position of "meeting the family," let alone in anticipation for asking for someone's hand in marriage.

Astarion wasn't even quite sure how his life got here. He had always fantasized that a life without Cazador would be one of selfish hedonism, not one where he would be legitimately concerned about a damn six year old sibling's first impression of him.

But then you came along, effortlessly shattering all of his grandiose plans with a batt of your eyelashes. Perhaps the entire journey of falling in love was more complicated, but it felt like it was that simple. In hindsight, he never stood a chance against you, but it was hilarious that there was a time he ever thought he did.

All of his prior dreams and fantasies felt like nothing in comparison to just being with you. It had been a year since you both saved the Sword Coast, a beautiful, fantastic year. That had ended with him somehow more in love with you now than when he first confessed. Selune's blessing had certainly helped with that he was sure. He still couldn't quite believe that you would use a god's blessing on him of all people, but gods, was he appreciative. Because being able to walk in the sun again meant that he could live the life he wanted, with no restrictions. He could be the partner you deserved, the kind that a father would happily say yes to when asking for your hand.

Which brought him back to his current dilemma. Perhaps he hadn't seen any of your family members in the time you'd been together, but he had heard plenty. You loved them all to death, especially your little sister. You wrote to them constantly, the mere sight of a letter from your parents enough to put you in a great mood for the rest of the day. He was aware that your mother was supposedly a saint, a fact that your own father had instilled in you often. He knew that they had a wonderful, loving marriage and were both higher ups in the Church of Selune. A fact that Astarion didn't particularly enjoy.

As grateful to the moon goddess as he was, he was aware that you were an expectation to the very normal belief that vampires were bad. And that marrying one was one of the stupidest things you could ever do from an average person's perspective, let alone a Selunite.

Why you hadn't done the smart thing and lied about what he was, Astarion would never know. But he did know that the thought of their rejection over his admittedly sordid history was putting him in a tailspin.

"They're going to love you," You said for the hundredth time, giving his hand a squeeze as you led him up the steps to your childhood home, "You have nothing to worry about sweetheart. I promise."

Astarion highly doubted that, but you were already knocking on the front door before he had a chance to argue. The door instantly slammed open, a beaming child already launching themselves at you before Astarion could process what was happening.

But you were more prepared them he was. You effortlessly caught them in your arms, laughing at their excited shouting, "Titi! You're late!"

So this was the famous Arabeth.

"No, I'm not!" You laughed as you settled her on your hip, "And what happened to my little girl's manners huh? You haven't even introduced yourself yet."

The child glanced over at him, like she was just realizing for the first time that someone else was standing over there. She looked a little shocked at the sight of him, staring at him with wide eyes. Wide enough for Astarion to start to wonder if something was on his face.

He gave her a little wave only for her to bury her face into your shoulder, peeking out at him with her lips pursed. Which was not the best start to the whole making his darling's family actually like him plan.

"Well, as you've probably guessed this is Arabeth. She's just a little shy," You reassured as you stepped inside, muttering a quick invitation inside under your breath. He appreciated that, he didn't need the whole house to be reminded of his... limitations.

"But she'll get over it soon enough," You continued as you called into the house, "Mom? Dad? We're here!"

And just like that they were rushing into the room, acting just as excited as your sister had been. Your mother wasted no time in smothering your face with kisses while your father swept you up into a hug. It was a rather impressive display of coordination, considering how they hadn't managed to knock you and your sister to the floor in the process. Astarion was pretty sure they were both saying something along the lines of We missed you! But it was hard to tell with all of you so tangled up in each other.

It was heartwarming to see, in all honestly. Of course such a loving person would come from an equally loving family, what else would he expect?

Though he certainly hadn't been expecting for your mother to throw her arms around him next. She brought him into a tight hug before looking him up and down, "So you're Astarion huh?"

She turned back to you, grinning ear to ear with her hands set on Astarion's shoulders, "He's so handsome! Selune help us, do you remember the last boy you brought home? He had a nose the length of my arm-"

"And that's enough of that," You said with a strained laugh, pulling your eccentric mother back a few inches, "And we've talked about the impromptu hugs. What happened to asking for permission?"

"Sorry, sorry!" She said with a wave of her hand, "Let me try again. I'm Seliras, and this is my husband-"

"Marcoul," Your father interrupted, putting his hand out for Astarion to shake, "It's been awhile since we've met a boyfriend."

"He's a little more than that," You said with a sigh as everyone exchanged pleasantries.

"We'll be the judge of that," Marcoul said with a sharp but friendly grin, the grip he had on Astarion's hand briefly tightening before he let go, "From what we've heard, you're quite the character aren't you?"

Ah, so the interrogating was starting early then. It was nothing that Astarion hadn't expected. Besides, turning up the charm was his strong suit, even when he was uncharacteristically nervous.

Astarion smiled back at him, "You've heard right. And I'm more than happy to answer any questions you might have."

"Oh gods please don't say that," You groaned, but it was too late. Your parents were already leading him to sit, rapid-fire questions coming out of their mouth.

Where are you from? How did you meet? Are you serious about our Tav? What's your religion? Where's your family? What are your plans?

But Astarion answered them all, with only mild censorship for the child's sake. The child who suddenly couldn't stop staring at him. It wasn't exactly easy to sell himself as a future husband when he was a vampiric ex-slave, but he made do.

It was an overwhelming experience to say the least, but not necessarily an unpleasant one. That was one good thing about trying to marry into a family of zealots, it was a lot easier to convince them of your virtue when you received a personal blessing from their goddess.

By the end of the night, they were all throughly appeased, enough so to get off the topic of him for a moment.

"You look a little young to have a thirty-year old child," Astarion said to your mother. He was actively trying to compliment her for obvious reasons, but he was also genuinely curious. She barely looked a day over 40.

"Oh we breed young," She said with a laugh, "We had Tav in our teenage years. Arabeth came much, much later. Our favorite little surprise. Gods, I can't think of a single person in our family who didn't have kids young. Our little Tav is the only exception to the rule."

"But maybe not for much longer, huh?" Marcoul added with a grin, yelping when you lightly smacked him over the head for the comment.

"Do not start the kid talk again!" You hissed out, cheeks red, "We've talked about this!"

Astarion couldn't help but grin at your reaction, charmed by your embarrassment. Though... the idea of the two of you having children together sure was an interesting thought.

Astarion felt a tug on his sleeve while you were distracted arguing with your parents. He turned, smiling when he saw your little sister standing there, still staring at him with wide-eyes.

She took a deep breath before blurting out, "You look like a prince. Are you?"

"Not exactly," Astarion said with a small laugh. That couldn't be further from the truth, "There's no blue blood in my veins."

She frowned, cocking her head at him like he wasn't making any sense. But then an idea obviously struck her as she excitedly asked, "But if you married a princess, then you'd become a prince too. Right?"

"I suppose?" Astarion answered with a shrug.

"So if I become a princess, and I marry you, then you'll be a prince?"

This conversation was quickly becoming out of his depth. But luckily enough for him you were swooping in to save him.

You laughed at her question, turning your attention back to the two of them, "No offense Bethy, but I'm going to be the one marrying this particular prince."

But Arabeth wasn't having it. She crossed her arms, looking at you like she was the one talking to a child, "You can't. Because if I don't marry him, he won't be a prince. So there. I have to do it."

She looked so serious, her facial expressions incredibly similar to your own. Astarion was holding back a loud laugh as you tried and failed to reason with her, "I can marry him without the royal status-"

"No! I'm marrying the prince!"

Your parents were doing a much worse job at hiding their reactions, both of them opening giggling behind their hands as you came up with a compromise.

"Okay, okay," You said with a sigh, kneeling down to look the small girl in the eye, "How about this? I marry him first. But only until you become a princess. Then he's all yours. Sound fair?"

She thought about it for a moment before nodding to herself, "Sounds fair."

Well Astarion wasn't going to get a better set-up then that. He turned to your father, his nerves coming back for a brief appearance, "I'm assuming now might be a good time to ask what I came here to ask. Though I do promise I only intending on asking for one of your children's hand in marriage."

Marcoul nodded slowly, his face unreadable as he spoke, "I mean no offense when I say this Astarion, but you aren't exactly who I imagined for my daughter."

"Dad don't-"

"Darling, let him finish," Astarion gently interrupted, his eyes still locked with your father's.

He took a deep breathe before continuing, "That said, I've never seen her so... herself with someone else before. So yes. The two of you can marry. On one condition."

"Anything," Astarion said instantly, nearly giddy at the fact that he was so close to the official yes, "Just name it."

"You have to have the wedding here," Seliras answered for him, a massive smile on her face, "No ifs, ands, or buts."

"And I get to be flower girl!" Arabeth chimed in, her past indignation completely forgotten as she climbed all over you, "And there has to be chocolate cake!"

"Oh gods, help us," You groaned, but Astarion was already nodding along. He couldn't give less than two shits where it happened or who was involved. He could scarcely believe that it was happening at all. But that was the last thing he had needed.

He already had the ring, the most amazing person he could ever fathom being with. Who actually wanted him back.

Now all he had to do was ask.

[robotbeetle]

Someone reposted one of my wyllstarion drawings saying it was like a sketch in an adventure journal which kinda inspired me. So I drew how I think they would draw eachother in their journals (assuming both have artistic ability). It also made for good practice with different brushes

I think wyll would use charcoal as a medium because there’s just something romantic about how soft it blends and how it captures one’s spirit that he would like. Plus they’re good for quick sketches and dramatic lighting which I think he’d appreciate.

I kinda went overboard with Astarion’s drawing of wyll which just might be my favoritism showing but oh well. I think Astarion would kinda be the opposite of wyll in his sketches. He’d prefer ink over messy mediums like charcoal and have precise defined lines with hatching for shading. While Wyll values capturing the essence of character in his drawings, Astarion would focus on accuracy.

[brain-rot-central]

I headcanon that Astarion would sing lullabies in Elvish to his newborn(s).

I read this last night when it came in and immediately wanted to cry. I thought giving it a few hours would change that but honestly it just made it worse.

Tav/Durge sleeping and he's on night duty. I can just see him gently pacing back and forth in their living room, fireplace going and he's softly singing the maybe one or two lullabies he remembers in Elvish (he assumes his parents must have sang them to him as why he remembers them) until the babe settles down. And then he'll sit on the recliner with them cradled in his arms, staring out the window as they're both bathed in the moonlight that pours through. Kissing their tiny little forehead.

He's forever amazed that they exist. And as he looks upon them, it's hard to imagine he ever lived a life different from this.

[bluebells-and-dragonflies]

Can I request Astarion reacting to GN Reader genuinely asking him why does he flirt with THEM of all people? Like they know everyone is attractive except them but the fact he flirts with them more than he does with everyone combined is a mystery to them!

Anon, I need to be so honest with you: Astarion is not going to stand for this, lol. Especially if you bring this up further into the relationship.

If you straight up try to tell him that you don't understand why he's flirting because you're not attractive enough for that, he's probably not going to take you seriously at first. It seems so outside the realm of possibility that you would actually think that- don't you know what you look like?- that he doesn't even consider you might be genuine. He'll probably respond with some sort of flippant joke (Oh, I tried everyone else in camp first. You were the only one who took the bait, or Flirting with you? You think that's what I've been doing? Darling, this is a seduction) and he'll only realize you're serious when you don't laugh.

He's not the sort of man who's naturally good at comfort, but he offers you his best form of it: aggressively attacking your false belief like he could physically tear it to shreds, using his flippancy as a weapon. He asks if you've gone to some other vampire behind his back and gotten yourself turned- how else could you be so unaware of your appearance? If you don't find yourself attractive, you have a serious fault in your taste. Either that, or you've developed incredible blinders to your own magnetism, and that exists regardless of how you look. (If you try to interrupt him here, he'll put a hand over your mouth (gently, so that you could pull away if you wanted) and keep talking as if you'd never interrupted). What, you haven't noticed? It's impossible to notice anyone else in any room you're in. Every expression on your face and every movement you make scream I am somebody you want to know. It's impossible not to want to be closer to you. To want you.

Now, he won't hear another insult aimed at the only person he's ever cared about. He would gut anyone who ever dared to talk about you the way you just talked about yourself.

You're beautiful, darling. Please don't forget it.

[shipperwolf1]

Astarion: I can't be what you see in me (a better, more honest person)

Also Astarion: hey we should tell Aylin that Lorroakan is hunting her; she deserves to know

Also also Astarion: lets his spawn-sibling go if you ask, without disapproving

Also also also Astarion: approves if you give an orphan food

Me: uh huh sure