#I need more astarion weird vampire man moments

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

I need more of Astarion being an absolute undead fucking weirdo. No more suave charming elf man NO this man forgets to breathe for prolonged periods of time and randomly gasps or croaks because he can't speak without air in his lungs. He lurks in dark corners with weird reflective eyes and doesn't move until you notice him. He's SUPER into the scent of his lover and buries his face in their neck or chest while taking in a BIG snorf. He gets very affectionate when he notices his partner is on their period or is bleeding from other causes. He doesn't make noise when approaching someone and often scares the shit out of them because he just silently shows up behind them. He's addicted to the warmth of his partner and rubs his body against them like a cat. He makes animalistic grunts and moans while he feeds. He forgets to blink and just stares at people with wide eyes while they talk. He stares at his lovers pulse point instead of looking in their eyes. He growls when displeased. Sometimes he smiles just a tad too wide. He watches his lover sleep and waits for them to wake up for them to find him just staring them down, unblinking. He's a fucking freak and I love him to bits I need more weirdo Astarion.

[oh-theseus]

the sound

pairing: astarion ancunin x gn!reader, astarion ancunin x gn!tav summary: your relationship with astarion has ran its course, but what happens when he recognizes the sound of your heart in a crowded tavern? word count: 4,071 a/n: this is post-game spawn astarion!! he's a freak here. like he's kind of a obsessed weirdo. idk, i wanted to play into all the weird things vampires can do 🤷‍♀️ also shamelessly admitting that the basis of this comes from 'the sound' by the 1975. def recommend giving it a listen :) anyways though SORRY I WAS GONE!! hope you guys accept this as a decent apology gift <33

warnings: ooc spawn!astarion, mean/toxic astarion, he's also kinda obsessed, astarion chokes reader???, blood depictions, blood drinking, stalker astarion if you squint, not a happy ending. SORRY I LIKE WEIRD FREAK SPAWN ASTARION!!! lmk if i need to add more!

Your relationship with Astarion had always been tumultuous. Perhaps that was because it was forged amidst the potential ending of the world, or perhaps it had something to do with the insane emotional baggage both of you brought to the table. Whatever it had been, it had not been enough to keep the two of you together.

Somewhere between killing Cazador and defeating the Absolute, things fell apart. And it wasn’t just Astarion’s fault, or just yours. Both of you… stopped trying? That didn’t feel right. Because you were trying, you really were. But it was never enough, on either side. So, you decided to part ways. It was better that way. At least that’s what you told yourself so that you could sleep at night.

Months passed, and Astarion became but a distant memory of fangs in your skin. Or, you tried to make him little more than that. You kept yourself busy in Baldur’s Gate, running errands of all sorts. You traveled some, but never as far as you did in order to defeat the Absolute. The days were long and grueling. Some nights you woke from nightmares, other nights you spent with lovers you’d never see again. Despite feeling a bit lonely at times, you have learned to enjoy this new circle of life for yourself. The routine kept you grounded. Kept you from thinking too hard about the vampire you once loved.

Taverns also helped. Not just because of the alcohol, but because everyone always wanted to talk about something. You had come to learn that most of the stories you heard were lies - or at least very embellished truths. Regardless, the fellow patrons were good company. They would laugh or cry shamelessly and were always willing to buy you a drink when you looked particularly rough. They didn’t pry, either. To them, you were just some other lonely fool coming to distract themself for an evening. And a good distraction it was, too.

Until that vampire you were trying so hard to forget walks in. 

For a moment, the world stops. Your eyes are locked on the figure in the door, his white curls seeming to glow in the moonlight outside. He winces when he steps inside - he didn’t like loud places, you remembered that. He looks just the same as you remember him, of course. A man unaged for two hundred years. What was a few months to his eternal not-quite-youth?

You look away before he can see you. And though you try to focus back on the adventurers in front of you, you find it difficult to do so. Your heart pounds with anxiety. You aren’t sure why you’re worried. Even upon parting with Astarion, he had remained relatively civil. But you knew Astarion better than most, so you knew that time did not heal Astarion’s wounds. No, time only seemed to make the vampire’s wounds fester up and get infected. If he wasn’t angry with you then, you had a feeling he would be angry with you now.

“I’ll be right back,” you say to the group of strangers you’re sitting with. You stand slowly, eyes scanning the crowded tavern for Astarion. You don’t see him, and your eyebrows furrow together - had you imagined him? It wouldn’t be the first time you saw something that wasn’t actually there.

The bar is crowded, the bartender working quickly to try to please everyone. You take one look at the scene and decide that slipping out the back door into the quiet street outside will bring you more relief than waiting however long for a single drink will.

As predicted, the streets of Baldur’s Gate are quiet. The moon is high in the sky, the fullness of it casting a soft glow over the street before you. A cat scurries out of a barrel nearby, but other than that, you are alone. Your back presses to the wall of the tavern beside the door, sliding down until you’re crouched on the ground, your hands rubbing across your face. 

This was all rather silly, wasn’t it? Running and hiding because your ex-lover showed up at the most popular tavern in the city you knew he resided in. It was childish, pathetic even. Still, you don’t get up. You let the cool night breeze dance over the exposed parts of your skin while your hands fall away from your eyes. Your eyes remain closed though as you inhale and exhale slowly - you were getting quite good at this self-soothing thing, weren’t you? You hear the door opening and the sound of feet stepping outside, but don’t think twice about it. People were allowed to leave the tavern, weren’t they?

“Ah, I thought I heard you.”

Correction - everyone except for Astarion was allowed to leave the tavern.

Your eyes fly open, and you’re on your feet in a moment. Astarion stands before you, wearing that all too-familiar smirk of his. You watch as his crimson eyes flicker across your body twice over, stunned into silence. Your heart is racing still, though you would wager it’s beating faster now based on how loud it was in your own ears.

“Cat got your tongue, my dear?” Astarion tilts his head to the side when he speaks. He is mocking you, of course. You were right to assume that he had grown angry with time. “I could hear you all the way inside, you know. Isn’t that just so interesting?” Hear you? What in the Nine Hells was he going on about? “What are you talking about?” You manage to ask, face wrinkled up in confusion. Astarion seems confused for a moment too, a distant look in his eyes that you knew meant he was trying to recall a memory. Impatient with him and his growing silence, you shift from foot to foot. Get on with it, you think.

“Hm, seems I forgot to tell you about that,” Astarion seems to say to himself. He focuses on you fully once more, waving his wrist when he next speaks. “Your heart, darling. I can hear it.” If this information had been presented to you a year ago, you might have slapped him. But you’d become quite desensitized to weird things - especially weird things pertaining to the nature of vampires. At least this part of Astarion’s nature made sense to you, unlike his inability to cross running water. If he was meant to live off of blood, then you supposed he should be able to hear the thing at the center of every living creature that made that blood flow.

But there were countless people in the tavern. You scoff - he’s lying. He couldn’t have been able to identify your heart among the numerous others in there. He must have seen you when you slipped outside.

“Your lies flatter me, Astarion. Truly,” you state sarcastically. Once, your sarcasm might have been full of mirth and lightheartedness when it came to him. But none of that is present now. Perhaps time had made your hurt fester, too? You always were more alike Astarion than you cared to admit.

“You wound me.” Astarion presses a hand to cover his dead heart in mock hurt. But he smirks down at you still. “Don’t you think I know exactly how to flatter you?”

Astarion takes a step closer to you. You’re suddenly very aware that the wall of the tavern is pressing against you. It’s almost frightening how much he looks like a predator like this. It’s almost… exciting. Your heart races faster, and Astarion’s smirk turns into a knowing grin.

You should’ve ran a stake through his heart when you had the chance.

“I do not have time for your antics.” Your voice conveys the same authority you once used to lead a makeshift army against the Absolute. Astarion finds it funny that you think it will work on him, the person who resented authority more than anyone or anything you had ever met.

“My antics are simply me wishing to catch up with an old friend. I hadn’t realized that was a crime these days.” He takes another step forward, that knowing grin of his not disappearing.

“Oh, a friend? Is that what we were?” Somehow, the implication that you had only been a friend hurts more than any insult he could possibly hurl at you right now. Had he truly thought so little of your nights together? Of the secrets you shared, the times you let him feed from you? “You wear your heart on your sleeve, my love. So easy to hurt it, isn’t it?” Astarion has moved so close to you now, that if he required air to breathe he’d be breathing in what you were exhaling out. You watch his eyes dance across your face, then trail down to your neck. Wordlessly, he grabs your chin and tilts your neck to the side.

Your hand is on his wrist immediately, the other one reaching for your blade strapped to your hip. You think he’s going to bite you. 

“Ah, ah,” Astarion stops your hand from grabbing your weapon with a tight grip around your wrist. “I’m just looking. Always so hungry for blood, aren’t we?” You don’t like the comparison of your desire to protect yourself to his need to drink blood. You don’t comment on it though, too busy watching his eyes burning into your neck.

If he wasn’t going to bite you, then - Oh. The scars.

Two puncture wounds on the right side of your throat, scarred over from the amount of times Astarion had bitten into that exact same spot to drink from you. You feel his hand leave your chin and push your collar to the side, exposing the scars to him more. He chuckles darkly, and you use your free hand to shove him away from you.

Astarion stumbles back, a look of surprise on his face. It’s quickly replaced with anger - an emotion you had seen on his face so many times before, but never directed at you until this very moment. 

“Do those make finding a little playmate difficult?” Astarion asks, eyebrows raised in mock interest. You would ask how he knew about your habits, but he did tell you once that he had a remarkable sense of smell. He could probably smell the elf you’d taken home last night on you still. You have half the mind to be embarrassed. The other half of your mind really wants to hit him.

“That’s not really your business anymore, is it?” You counter, crossing your arms over your chest. You’ve moved off of the wall now, making sure there’s empty space behind you should he try to approach you again. “But, I am glad you are still as jealous as ever.”

“Hah! Jealous!” Astarion does that fake little laugh of his. He goes so far as to bend over and then wipe a non-existence tear from his eye when he stands. “Darling, I truly could not care any less who or what you are doing in your free time. Rather - I could not care any less about you.”

It’s your turn to laugh at him. “Bold words for the man who just confessed to knowing the sound of my heart amidst all those other ones in there.”

Astarion doesn’t like this response in the slightest. You grin wickedly as he clenches his fists at his side and narrows his eyes. You two always did know how to hurt one another, didn’t you?

There is a truth to your words though. It was bold for him to claim not to care about you anymore, but to still have the sound of your heart so well memorized that he could find you in the middle of a loud, crowded tavern after months of not seeing each other. It’s almost romantic, if not a bit obsessive. Though, Astarion’s version of romance always had been a bit obsessive, hadn’t it?

“Cat got your tongue, Astarion?” You use his own words on him, tilting your head in the very same way that he had done not five minutes ago. You don’t suppress the wickedly pleased grin that spreads across your face when Astarion’s jaw clenches. Yes, you knew exactly how to hurt him. 

“Very original,” he hisses. You simply shrug - as if all of this and him are not worth your time. He does not like that. Not one bit.

When you and Astarion were together, he was always very careful with you, unless you requested otherwise. You had seen that he was strong in a way that was inhuman, but had never been anywhere close to being on the receiving end of that strength. Until now.

You let out a gasp when you are pushed back against the wall of the tavern. You immediately regret it, given that it leaves you with no air in you when Astarion’s hand wraps around your neck. Not strong enough to bruise, but certainly strong enough to have you reaching for your blade. Again, he beats you there and pins your hand to the wall

“You forget yourself, little dove,” he whispers, mere inches from your face. If someone else were to slip out the back door of the tavern, they would likely think you were two lovers with no shame. 

Given that you can not speak, you simply look at him. If you weren’t terrified of choking to death, you might have glared at him. Instead, you look at him with big, wide eyes. They plead for you - they show your fear. Your heart gives it away too. And the way your blood races beneath his hand. Your anatomy betrays your emotions more than you do.

But Astarion’s does, too. In his eyes, you see many things. Anger, of course, but there is also guilt, sadness, fear - hunger. His eyes go to those scars again. Your eyes go impossibly wider in understanding.

Your free hand taps at his wrist repeatedly, begging him to release you. He must see your desperation, because he relents. You would have fallen to your knees while you gasped for air if his hands did not catch you on either side of your waist. 

His crimson eyes are darting over your features, watching as you catch your breath. He’s got that far-off look about him again. His hands squeeze your waist gently, as if he was making sure you were still there. You know what this means - how many times had you seen Astarion act just like this because he hadn’t fed in a few days? And given that he was still a spawn and was limited to nights hunting alone, you imagined it might get hard to find something to eat every once in a while.

“I forget myself,” you mumble when you can breathe properly again. You straighten up, expecting Astarion’s hands to remove themselves, but they do not. “Does your hunger always make you act as a feral beast?”

Astarion winces at your insult, as if you had hit him instead of just spoken. He had thought you wouldn’t notice. But those big, wet eyes of his never kept his secrets when he desired for them to be kept most. 

“Perceptive as always.” His words are almost a compliment, just as his hands are almost comforting. 

“You haven’t come out here to taunt me, then?” You ask, anger seeping into your tone. Did he truly think you would just give him your blood after the stunt he had just pulled? “Were you seeking a meal for the evening?” Astarion is the one to shrug now. His hands leave your sides - you find yourself almost missing his touch. “I didn’t have a plan, darling. All I knew was that your heart was racing, and I wanted to know why.”

When he said it like that, it made it almost sound like he was worried about you and your safety.

A thick, uncomfortable silence settles over you both like a wet blanket. He’s thinking again, but this time, so are you. You’re thinking about the scars on your neck, the hunger in Astarion’s eyes. You’re thinking about how it used to be comforting to let him drink from you. You’re thinking a lot of stupid, foolish things. You’re also tugging the collar of your shirt down and tilting your head to the side. 

“Be quick.” You always were too generous for your own good, weren’t you?

Astarion doesn’t seem to understand what you’re telling him to do until your index finger taps over the scars on your neck. A look of pure delight fills his face, mixing together with surprise and something like mockery.

“In public? My, you’ve gotten dirty, haven’t you?” Astarion says, placing one hand on your side again. You don’t give him the pleasure of a response when his second hand comes up to your neck and traces feather-light touches over the marks. His gaze goes soft when he speaks next, peering into your eyes as if he can see into your very soul. “You are certain?”

No, you are most definitely not certain. 

“Yes,” you force out, tearing your eyes away from Astarion. “Do not be greedy.”

Astarion needs no further invitation. The hand that had been tracing your skin finds its spot on the back of your neck, holding you in place while his hand on your hip keeps you steady. The gasp that leaves your lips when his fangs puncture your skin is anything but quiet. Your hands have moved to his shoulder, gripping him so tightly that your knuckles have gone white. You’d forgotten how uncomfortable it was to have someone’s teeth in your flesh.

He drinks in slow, measured gulps. Those plush lips of his suck gently on your skin, his tongue laps up the liquid that tries to escape his mouth. There is a strange intimacy to it all that you choose to ignore. You choose especially to ignore the soft groan of pleasure that falls from his mouth when your fingers start to get cold and dig further into his shoulders. A single half-shove to his shoulders, and he pulls away, a trickle of your blood making its way down his chin.

Silence sinks into the (very limited) space between the two of you once more. Astarion wipes your blood from his chin, then shows the same courtesy to your neck before covering the puncture wounds with your collar once more. You wrinkle your nose a bit when he takes his thumb into his mouth, sucking the last taste of you from his skin - while maintaining eye contact, of course. It’s revolting - it’s erotic. You don’t let that thought linger.

“Better?” You ask, hoping that the swirl of strange emotions inside of you is masked in your voice. 

Astarion smirks - your voice has betrayed you. “Oh, much. You’re too good to me.”

You swallow your spit, your throat bobbing up and down with the movement. Astarion watches it carefully with dilated pupils. He’s still holding your waist, you’re still holding his shoulders. Neither of you makes to move away from the other.

The silence seeps into your very being. It finds the deepest parts of you and closes around them like a pale hand squeezing your neck. It finds your guilt - the old guilt of giving up on the man before you all those months ago. The new guilt of betraying yourself by letting him feed from you. You hadn’t even made him ask. 

“Would you like to hear a secret?” He whispers, his eyes back on your face once more. 

No. “Yes.”

He smiles at your response. His hand not gripping your waist begins to trace the slopes of your face with practiced familiarity. “I’ve been coming here every night. I heard you in there a few weeks ago - I only just got the courage to step inside tonight. I was hoping to see you.”

For some reason, your mind brushes over everything else he has just confessed, instead focusing on his final sentence. I was hoping to see you. It makes your heart skip a beat like you’re some kind of lovesick schoolgirl. Astarion’s smile widens, and you curse yourself for not being able to control your racing heart. It’s humiliating to know he can hear the exact reaction your body had to every word he said.

“Why?” You ask, far softer than you wanted to. 

“Oh, is it not obvious my dear? I miss you.”

You’re reminded of the time Astarion told you he loved you after only a few nights spent together. He had been trying to manipulate you then - was he doing the same to you now? 

“You expect me to believe that?” This time, your voice is forceful as you intended for it to be the first time. “You do not know me if you think I am foolish enough to take you for your word.”

Astarion laughs with his whole chest. His head tilts backward for a moment, the moonlight catching in his stunning white curls for a moment and making them appear to glow. His eyes have narrowed when he looks back down at you - you’re playing his game better than he thought you would. Unfortunately for you, though, he knew exactly what he could do to make you lose.

“No. Let me show you.” Astarion waits for no response before he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. As soon as the familiar pressure of his lips is on yours, your body tenses. You are trying to decide what you want to do. But then he presses more into you, and you melt.

You can taste your blood on his lips. There’s something else, too. Bitter, yet a bit sweet. Some kind of wine, if you had to guess. His fangs brush over your lower lip, threatening to sink into the plush flesh there. But the puncture never comes, and inside it’s his tongue intruding your mouth. You let him explore the space of your mouth, your body shivering when he trails his tongue along your lower lip.

And then he’s gone - his lips glistening with a mixture of your spit and his. You are panting a bit, bringing a hand up to touch your lips as if you can undo what you have just done. You do not even register that Astarion has finally removed himself from your body, too busy trying to make sense of why you hadn’t pushed him away. 

You had come to the tavern tonight as part of your routine. To talk with old friends and new, and to not think about the very vampire who stood before you. How had you ended up kissing him and letting him feed from you? You might be sick from the deep sense of betrayal you feel inside of you. You’ve betrayed months of personal work to forget him. And for what? A single kiss and words you know are empty.

“You are perfect, every time,” Astarion remarks, his tongue darting across his lips to clean them of the wetness decorating them. He grins wickedly, then straightens his back. No, no. You know this look. He thinks he’s won.

You fell for his trap.

Again.

“Unfortunately, I do have rather important business to attend to.” He doesn’t even bother to look at you, too busy with straightening out the sleeves of his shirt. “Do keep yourself safe, darling. I would hate for something to happen to my little treat.” And then he’s gone, slipping inside of the tavern through the back door as if he hasn’t just ruined you with a single kiss.

You stand there, heart racing and eyes wide. You want to peel off your skin, to hide within your bones so that no one else could ever bother you. You are mortified. How could you be so stupid? You had known from the beginning that he was toying with you. Yet, you let him drink your blood, kiss your lips. And you would have given him more, if he wanted it. 

You clear your throat - it’s your turn to straighten out your clothing now, especially your collar.

Your heart is still racing when you walk away from the tavern. All the way down the street you find yourself repeating one thing, over and over and over: “Don’t you think I know exactly how to flatter you?”

You’ve never wished someone had been wrong more.

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[spacebarbarianweird]

Memories of Innocence

Synopsis: Astarion sees snippets of his own past through the reverie.

Tags: comfort, dadstarion, dhampirs, reverie, Astarion's memories

Alethaine's age: 3 days

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

The newborn girl squeals demanding to be held and fed.

Astarion leans on the cradle where three-day-old Alethaine cries loudly stretching her arms and legs.

“So, what is it now?” Astarion smiles while taking a thick blanket to wrap around his daughter. He can’t allow her to feel cold—unfortunately, his vampire body isn’t really warm. “Your mother has just gone to sleep.”

Tiriel has been exhausted—first, labor and then a newborn who needs all her attention and also requires her body to survive. Astarion sees a weird irony in the fact that he first fed on Tiriel’s blood and now Alethaine feeds on Tiriel’s milk.

Astarion has been enjoying being a father so far. He loves being with the newborn all the time when Tiriel is asleep—and waking her up only for breastfeeding. He even likes the dirty side of having a child, and he is surprised at himself that it doesn’t annoy him.

It’s his child. His baby daughter.

Elves are so infertile every child is a blessing, and since the process is almost painless (well at least it’s a painless process for an elven mother—Astarion will never forget Tiriel’s cries). Usually, the birth of elves is welcomed by the whole community, and every member of said community wants to hold the newborn. And elves remember that moment even if their whole childhood is forgotten. 

Alethaine was welcomed to the world only by her parents and a halfling midwife. Will she remember her mother touching her ears, so different from her own? Or Astarion’s ugly crying?

Is she even an elf, after all, Astarion wonders.

Alethaine squeals again and Astarion carries her to the next room where, behind a shut door, Tiriel is fast asleep.

“Tiriel, love, I hate to wake you up, but she wants to eat.” Astarion enters the room and sits at the edge of the wooden bed.

Tiriel sighs, still half asleep, and takes Alethaine in her arms. Astarion is mesmerized by how Tiriel tugs the collar of her shirt freeing the swollen breast and puts Alethaine in front of it. How a nipple disappears in the baby’s mouth and how her ears start twitching with every suckling movement.

It’s the nineteenth time Astarion has seen it. 

And he wants to remember every one of these sessions.

“Are you tired?” Tiriel asks. Her eyes are half-open. “And when was the last time you ate?”

“My sweet, I can spend a few days without meditating and eating. I am a vampire-elf, after all,” he chuckles, but the next moment he realizes he actually wouldn’t mind to trance a bit.

Tiriel yawns. “Give me a couple of hours and I will take care of her,” Tiriel stretches her left hand to play with Astarion’s hair.

He closes his eyes concentrating on her touch. 

Sometimes he thinks that’s all an illusion. A cruel trick of his mind. He is still locked in the dungeon, or worse, buried alive in a tomb. But he opens his eyes and sees his beloved feeding their newborn child.

And they are both real.

“Do you think she is normal?” Astarion asks. “I mean… I don’t mind if she is a dhampir, not at all! But do you think she is a mortal like you?”

“Honestly as far as I'm concerned her current species is ‘baby’", Tiriel sounds exhausted. “I think we will know, sooner or later.”

Astarion leans to kiss Tiriel. She answers him with the same passion she has had for the last twenty years.  

He breaks up the kiss and pecks Tiriel’s cheek. 

“A couple more hours, all right?” she whispers.

Astarion nods and then picks up the blanket.

“Astarion, I understand it’s winter and she is a newborn, but don’t you think it’s too warm?” Tiril notices as Astarion wraps the baby.

“I am as cold as a dead man,” Astarion says. “I don’t want her to suffer in my hands.”

Tiriel nods as if suddenly remembering Astarion is a vampire. “If she falls asleep and you need to reverie, come to me. I suffer without your hands on me,” she smiles adjusting the shirt.

Astarion places the baby into the cradle in the other room. Alethaine stares at him with her eyes wide open. 

“I am very lucky,” he mutters. “You don’t understand it, but I am very lucky” he adds in elven.

He is lucky he was outside during the nauthiloid attack. He is lucky he was so paralyzed with fear he didn’t try to run away. He is lucky that the mindflayer, the Emperor, decided Tiriel could somehow benefit from carrying a tadpole in her head. 

He is lucky Tiriel didn’t push him away.

He is lucky they both survived. 

Astarion doesn’t believe in destiny, but it has been such a wild sequence of events leading to him standing in this nursery he finds it all unreal.

He notices stains on his once-white shirt, takes it off, and tosses it to the same pile of dirty fabric on the floor. Astarion will wash all these nappies and clothes later and, no, he isn’t going to let Tiriel do that.

Astarion sits on the floor, pressing his back against the wall. It seems like he can meditate to recover a bit. The last time he managed to do so was a few days earlier and it was interrupted by Tiriel’s muffled cry as she was pressing her hands to the belly. 

Alethaine starts squealing. Her little face is red and her toothless mouth is wide open.

“What is it now?” Astarion asks. It may be the first time he is really tired of hearing her screams. “You are fed and still pretty clean.”

Alethaine squeals again.

Astarion picks up the blanket to take the baby in his arms, but the moment the fur touches her she yells even louder.

“What do you want, Alethaine? You don't like the blanket? Too bad, I can’t hold you without it!”

Another scream. Gods, how is it even possible for such a small child to make such loud noises?!

“My hands are cold, princess. You won't like them. I am not warm like your mother.”

The girl stretches her arms to him. Astarion feels a wave of desperation—it’s just unfair to think about it. His life was taken away from him, his youth, his childhood memories, his family, and even his past lives, if elves are right about reincarnation.

And now he can’t even hold his own daughter.

“Princess, I am going to take you but don’t complain,” he lifts her tiny body and puts Alethaine on his own bare chest. “See? I am as cold as the grave I’ve dug myself out of.”

Alethaine stops crying.

Astarion stares at her in disbelief as the newborn buries her little face in his cold skin.

Alethaine smiles.

Astarion carefully sits back on the floor and takes the blanket to wrap himself. Alethaine is blissful and he concentrates on her heartbeat and breathing.

She is so warm.

“You… wanted me to hold you,” he whispers. “Without blankets or anything else?”

Astarion sniffs. This little bundle in his arms makes him…normal. What is more normal in this world than a father holding his newborn child? He was forced to do the most atrocious things, he had to crawl back from his own grave, and his body was used in the most disgusting ways…

And yet he is here.

In his own home far away from the Sword Coast. With the most amazing woman in the next room. With their child.

Alethaine is so delicate, so innocent… So small. 

“Well, it seems like you are finally asleep. Do you mind if I meditate?” He smiles, touching her baby hair.

He closes his eyes and lets the flow take him.

Astarion drifts in complete darkness. No, not this. Not the memories of being buried. He tries to run away from those memories but can’t. It's only a dream, he reminds himself. Whatever horrors he is going to witness it’s all in the past.

But why is it so dark?

Why does he feel so helpless?

He is still aware of his real surroundings and the tiny bundle in his own hands—but the weird memory takes a grip on his mind and he questions if he should have put Alethaine back in her bed.

The darkness shifts to light. Astarion can’t see anyone but he knows there are people around him. Quiet murmurs in elven reach to his ears forcing him to let out a cry.

Then a pair of hands take him and he hears a loud heartbeat. Long silver hair brushes his head and he sees the face of a tired elven woman whose smile is exhausted yet happy.

Tiriel looked similar three days ago.

“My little star,” the woman whispers to him.

The memory fades away. No more years to witness, no more light. Only darkness, misery, and cold—until he ends up in Tiriel’s arms that promise him safety and warmth.

“And you were afraid she wouldn’t want to be held by you.” He hears Tiriel’s voice as she kneels beside them, “I will take her, all right?”

Astarion, still half in his trance, lets her take the baby and Alethaine makes a disgruntled sound. “Oh, so now you like your dad more than me!” Tiriel laughs. “Was it all right? Your reverie?” 

Astarion finally returns to reality. Tiriel asks him that question any time she witnesses him waking up. Unless it’s obvious he’s seen something really bad and ends up crying in pain. 

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t?”

“I think I saw my mother,” Astarion finally confesses. “She was holding me like you are holding Alethaine right now.”

“Oh?” Tiriel touches his cheek. “I thought you didn’t remember anything”

“I still don’t. It’s like a glimpse.”

Tiriel tugs him, helping Astarion to stand up. “Do you think she is still alive? Your mother?”

“It doesn’t matter. I am a vampire, no one would want to have a vampire son.”

Tiriel nods—she knows when to stop asking. She knows when he feels uncomfortable and uneasy and never pushes his boundaries. And if she does, it’s by sheer accident.

“It’s already dark outside,” she notices. “You need to eat”

Hunger is too painful. Gods, he wishes he could feed on Tiriel—but they agreed he would return to his habits once she stops breastfeeding.

“If you go into the woods, kill something I can eat, too,” she asks. “I am fucking starving.”

“Of course,” Astarion puts on his winter shirt. “It seems like I am leaving the house as a father for the first time. I will be back soon, love,” he kisses her lips, and the moment he pulls away Tiriel points at their daughter. Astarion carefully plants a kiss on her forehead.

The winter night meets him with howling winds and piercing cold. Astarion is on a hunt, he is going to let his predatory nature take the lead once he is in the woods. He needs a lot of blood to compensate for the few days he spent with his wife and daughter, and when he returns to them his body will be temporarily hot.

Maybe it’s for the best that those who mattered to him when he was mortal think he is dead. There are three Astarions—a forever lost soul from Baldur’s Gate, a tortured spawn, and a free elf who fears nothing and no one, who has a home, who has people to love. It doesn’t matter what happened before he woke up on that spelljammer. 

Only what happens next. 

--

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 @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids @ednaaa-04 @dajeong

[okminer07]

Slave to the Light Pt 7

A Baldur's Gate fanfiction

Lorelai stared up at Gale, shocked and confused, "What do you mean under different circumstances? what possible circumstances are there that would make you travel with a fucking vampire!?"

The vampire, or Astarion as the others seemed to call him, merely scrunched up his nose at her remarks. Gale's eyes fell away from her, clearly pondering something.

"Well, you see" he started, "All of us here happen to be dealing with the same problem that we are all in dire need of rectifying".

She raised a brow, "What kind of problem?"

Gale pursed his lips, as if debating whether he should continue, "All of us.... currently are hosts to illithid parasites".

Lorelai's eyes widened, "What?"

"We basically have these worm-like fuckers swimming around in our brains" chimed in Karlach.

"No- I know what an illithid parasite is, but...." she looked the man before her up and down, "Shouldn't you have.... transformed?"

"Now that, is something we are all wondering about" said Gale, "None of us have shown any real signs of... well, turning into tentacled monsters. So, since we have seemingly been blessed with spare time, we're looking for a cure. Hence the give of us being together."

Lorelai stiffened, "there's more of you?"

"Yes, but you'll meet them later, that is... if you decide to stay." over Gale's shoulder, she saw Karlach grinning down at her.

"You're offering to let me stay? Why?"

Gale chuckled, "Well you're clearly in need of some assistance, and I dare say your presence wouldn't cause much of a hassle" he leaned in closer, lowing his voice, "And to be honest, I don't completely trust Astarion to not.... forget himself."

"I can hear you; you know." grumbled Astarion.

Lorelai looked down. Being with these group seemed to be presenting more risks by the second. First, a vampire, and now illithid parasites. But what about the number of risks if she went it alone? and as dangerous as these big folk might be, they could be of use to her.

She met Gale's eyes again, "Alright, I will take you up on your offer" her gaze hardened, "But if I see any of you begin to sprout tentacles I'm out of here. And if your..... companion tries anything-"

"We'll make sure he doesn't."

"Well, if he does, I won't hesitate to teach him a much harsher lesson than I did last night, perhaps with something much sharper."

Astarion let out a snort of laughter that made her blood boil, "That's cute."

Lorelai's fingers tighten around the needle, wishing she could shove it right through one of those awful red eyes.

Gale straightened, clapping his hands together, "Right, now that's sorted, how abouts we give you some alone time?" the moment he had finished his sentenced, Astarion turned on his heel and quickly made his way out of the tent, shooting Lorelai one last glare.

"That means you too Karlach. I think you may have overstayed your welcome" Gale held the tent flap open and gestured for the Tiefling to follow suit.

"Can't I stay? I know it's your tent and all... but come on" she looked down at Lorelai, "I can stay right?"

Lorelai thought for a moment. She had been deeply looking forward to not being surrounded by towering figures and was about to ask her to leave, but once again Karlach was giving her that hopeful grin.

She sighed, "Yeah sure, you can stay. But just be quiet, alright?"

Karlach beamed at her before smirking at Gale who rolled his eyes before leaving.

To her surprise, the Tiefling was able to stay quiet. She had simply sat herself down and watched Lorelai eagerly as she continued to work. It began to feel a little weird though after twenty minutes went by and Karlach was still staring. Lorelai kept looking up from her work only to be met with the same intense gaze.

After the tenth time of looking over her shoulder to see if there was any change in the Tiefling's behavior, she resigned herself to fully focusing on making something wearable.

Hard to say how much time had gone by when she had finally locked the final stitch and held up her handiwork: A rather small top and a pair of short and baggy pants, both an obnoxious shade of purple.

"Hey, not bad." said Karlach.

Lorelai sighed, "Do you mind staring at something else for a moment?"

"Oh fuck, yeah sorry."

The ground shifted as Karlach spun herself around, so her back was to her.

Lorelai threw the articles of clothing on the ground before going to remove the sorry excuse for a dress she was currently wearing. She had managed to pull it up over her legs before she gasped out, being hit with a stinging pain the moment she tried to pull it up over her back.

"You alright?"

"Fine" she grunted, gritting her teeth. The fabric must have fused itself to her wounds. She groaned before taking hold of her dress again and quickly tossed it over her head. Her back stung with pain that slowly subsided once she had ripped the fabric away from it. Tossing it aside, she reached down and pulled on her newly made shirt and pants.

She poked her head around the pile before stepping out. Karlach peeked over her shoulder before turning back around. She looked Lorelai up and down before an amused smile appeared on her face. The Tiefling let out a snort of laughter, looking away and covering her mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing" she lied; her eyes still upturned, "Just looks a little big on you."

Lorelai rolled her eyes, walking over and heaving herself up onto the plate to snatch up another grape, glaring at it as if it had been the one to make the remark.

She leapt down, tossing the half-eaten fruit aside and began heading for the exit.

"Where are you headed?"

"Outside."

"What for?"

Lorelai groaned, "Does it matter?"

"Can I come with?"

"I don't care."

She continued forward, stepping out into the open. She couldn't help but tense slightly at the sight before her. Four other massive tents were set up in the distance, all of them different colors and had an assortment of items outside their entrances. They all surrounded a campfire that at the moment was nothing but burnt wood and charcoal. But that wasn't what had bothered her, what bothered her was the towering figures meandering around the tents. She could feel through the ground the slight quiver from their steps from here, all of them, lumbering around like big oafs the lot of them.

Lorelai shook her head, focusing back on the task at hand: arming herself. It only took her a moment of looking around before she spotted a patch of trees to the east. She began to make her way over there, her eyes fliting around to look back at the big folk and know where each one of them was at the given moment. She kept an especially close eye out for that vampire, even though he shouldn't have been able to be out in the sun. Being apparently apart of this little team, he was almost certainly still lurking around somewhere.

She had noticed Karlach had left the tent, though she had reframed from following her and had instead gone over to what Lorelai assumed was her own tent. There didn't seem to be too much of a reason to keep an eye on that one, she seemed docile enough.

The grass began to reach up past her waist as she trudged into the beginnings of a forest. The sun was shining down through the many leaves of the trees, illuminating their shape and color, which was exactly what Lorelai had been hoping for.

Her pace slowed as she scrutinized each tree she passed, looking from its leaves to its branches to its trunk. There was a good deal of oak and dogwood, both much too knotty to work with. There was also some hickory, too fragile to moisture, and some elm, too likely to crack. Then she spotted just what she had been looking for, a yew tree.

She hurried over to it, looking over it once more. Yes, it would do very nicely. Looking up, she pinpointed the lowest branch that was the right thickness before she dug her fingers beneath the crevices of the bark. Her muscles strained but ached with an almost pleasant and familiar burn as she scaled up the trunk.

When she was perpendicular to the branch she wanted, she began to shimmy closer over. Securing her feet in the groves of bark, she reached out and took hold of one of the smaller branches. With some effort, she managed to snap it off the main branch, almost losing her balance as she did so. her hands scrambled to grab back onto the bark, stick in hand that she surveyed with a nod.

The trek down was much easier, only made tad harder, having to tow down a stick nearly as long as she was tall down with her.

She jumped the rest of the way back to the ground. Holding the stick now like a great misshapen staff, she looked along the forest floor. Now... all she needed was- that might do.

She bent down and picked up a jagged rock, turning it over in her hand. It would have to suffice. Heading back over to the yew tree, she sat herself down with both rock and stick in hand. Placing the stick on her lap, she turned it over a few times before finding the sharpest side of the rock and getting right to work.

[carooosa]

For Starry: BG3 Apprecimaytion Gift

Word count: 741 Rating: Angst Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Named Tav (Stella) Warnings: None AO3 link: For Starry Summary: Astarion finds a hidden letter that's addressed to him from his consort, Stella. He's unsure how to react to the contents that he reads. A/N: This is for @starryjuicebox's fic "Beloved" and a part of the @bg3-apprecimaytion event! This was for the May 1st prompt, letters (yes I know it is May 5th life is weird sometimes!) Please go check out @starryjuicebox's fic as well as the @bg3-apprecimaytion event!

One morning in the Crimson Palace, Astarion awakes to find his beloved consort, Stella, fast asleep beside him. Her features are soft, unlike how she normally looks when awake. She’s been frowning more lately, and he doesn’t know why. Any time that Astarion asks her what’s wrong or what’s on her mind, Stella simply responds with one word: nothing.

He knows that’s not the case, but if she refuses to communicate with him there’s only so much that he can do. Astarion silently slips out of the bed covers and begins to get ready for the day when he spots a crumpled-up piece of paper shoved behind a vase of flowers. He would need to excuse the servant tasked with preparing the bed chambers.

He grabs the trash and is about to throw it away when he recognizes the design on the paper to be the same as the bordered parchment he gave Stella for writing letters. He quickly unfolds the paper and finds a letter.

Starry

Your Grace

My dearest Astarion,

I wish I could confide in you the pain I feel. Every waking moment I think of the helpless souls we damned to the Hells, and I cannot help but ache in despair. The naive, the helpless, and the children – they all suffer now and it is my fault. I know I should have worked harder to convince you to end the ritual, to end the pain, but I was unable to find the words. You have longed for freedom for centuries, and with the ritual, you finally obtained it.

It is unbearable at times. I hear their screams when it’s quiet within the halls, and I yearn to run away, to spread my wings and soar above the city. The palace is covered in sour memories, tainted with the pain of centuries past. Sometimes I wish I could leave and explore the city on my own and pretend that I am visiting for the first time, unaware of the suffering that plagues the town. I would never broach the topic with you, lest I cause more worry.

I know you feel the pain, too. You try to hide it, and you are mostly successful. But in the dark of the night and the respite of our bed chambers, I see it. I notice the fear in your eyes. I am there next to you when you awake from your nightmares. I see you, Starry Astarion, and I want to help. I am unsure how, but I believe that if we weep together, the pain will lessen.

The writing ends save for a few barely legible sentences that have been crossed out.

I haven’t been honest I need to come clean There’s something I need to tell you

Astarion grips the letter, crumpling the edges of the floral stationery. Why does Stella feel guilt for the wretched souls that allowed him to become the powerful vampire that he is? If it weren’t for their sacrifice, he would have never been able to protect her, to defeat the Netherbrain. Anger rises in his chest and settles at the back of his throat. Astarion storms back to the bed and is about to wake up Stella to demand answers until he sees the dried tear stains on her cheek. Looking back at the letter, teardrops are splattered across the page.

He stills for a moment, a bitter, unfamiliar feeling replacing the anger that he’s used to. He’s well aware that she longs for the pathetic man he used to be, but he cannot – will not be that man ever again. That weak vampire had died with the rest of the thousands of spawn at the ritual, and in his ashes, this new Astarion, the true Astarion, rose. He is everything good about his old self and more.

So why didn’t Stella look at him the same way?

He shakes the feeling from his head and goes back to prepare for the day, making sure to replace the crumpled-up letter exactly as he found it. Stella would need to bring these issues up to him herself. Astarion pushed out the faint voice of worry in his mind as he put on his coat before leaving the bed chambers, stealing one last look at his lover before closing the door.

When Stella awoke, she instinctively turned and reached out her hands to her lover, only to find that the bed was numbingly empty.

[smolgloves]

Tales of the Tavern

Summary: Freya has a much needed drink and gets to know some of Tav's companions

Tw: just alcohol consumption, this one is more fluff cause Freya needs a break lol

Uh,Tav?” A posh voice came from outside the tent. “Astarion wishes to see you.”

Tav rolled their eyes and opened the tent's flap and divided them from the outside. “What does he want now?” 

Freya glanced up to see the man with devil horns outside. His skin was dark and littered with scars, and his eyes bore two different colors; one was a dark red, the other ghostly white. 

“He's complaining about the debris in his eye.” Said the man. 

“Tell him to deal with it for now.” Tav crossed their arms. “I'm trying to make sure our guest is alright.” 

The man's eyes fell upon Freya, she glanced away and took a sip of wine. Shadowheart was nice enough to offer her a pillow to sit on while they all drank together, but now it just felt like she was put on the spot again, this time feeling more like an injured bird being cared for by gawking children. 

“I'm aware, but he's complaining rather loudly in his tent and won't let anyone else help him.” 

“Fucking dramatic…” Tav muttered under their breath before glancing over at Freya. It didn't take a prodigy to see Tav was debating on staying with her or checking on Astarion. 

“Go ahead,” She let out a sigh, being left alone with two beings she didn't quite trust wasn't her ideal situation. “Better you see him before he thinks about coming over here.” 

“I promise I won't be long.” Tav smiled and excused themselves from the tent.

Freya had thought the one man would follow behind Tav but his feet were firmly planted where he stood. To occupy the tension gnawing in the back of her head, Freya took another sip of wine. 

“So, we're drinking at this hour?” The man chuckled.

“She needed one after what Astarion did.” Shadowheart said. 

“I hear that.” He smiled warmly at Freya. “Would you mind if I had one drink too?” 

Old habits nagged at Freya, warning her to not trust the devil man. Just one glance into his eyes was enough to put her on edge, yet she remembered him advocating for Astarion to cease his mockery. Surely, he couldn't be that bad if he didn't find a sick enjoyment out of her fear. “I'm not one to deny someone an opportunity to drink.” 

“Much appreciated, friend.” He sat down near Shadowheart and took a drink. “The name is Wyll Ravengard, your name is… Freya, correct?” 

She smiled and nodded, it was weird how little things like remembering her name seemed to lower her guard around these larger beings. Perhaps the wine was starting to get to her head, she probably shouldn't get too drunk but Shadowheart offered to pour her another glass into her thimble.

“I must say, drinking with a… borrower was it? Was not something I anticipated on this journey.” 

“Indeed.” Wyll agreed. 

“Well, I didn't expect to be drinking with larger beings tonight.” Freya chuckled before pressing the thimble to her lips. 

“So tell us this,” Wyll started off. “How does one make enemies with Astarion so quickly?” 

“I may have snuck into his tent in search of food.” 

“Sneaking into a vampire's tent for food?” A smirk spread on Shadowheart's face. “That doesn't sound like the best idea.” 

“It's not like I knew he was a vampire!” Her cheeks grew red, the wine was beginning to hinder the shyness that had once gripped her moments ago. “I wouldn't have even bothered with this camp had I known about him.” 

Wyll and Shadowheart exchanged a glance before chuckling together, making this moment even more embarrassing for Freya. 

“Well you certainly knocked him down a peg.” Shadowheart said. 

“And you used an interesting device.” Wyll leaned a little closer to Freya. “What was that thing?” 

“Oh… uh, it's called a peashooter.” Freya pulled out the makeshift weapon out of her bag, it looked so primitive compared to the weapons she had seen around the camp, it hardly looked like a type of weapon that could take down a vampire. “It's just a prototype.” 

“I'd say it's a damn good start.” Wyll smiled and held his hand out. “But may I get a closer look at it?” 

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the genuine interest Wyll showed, but Freya's instinct to run the moment his hand drew near her only sounded more like a suggestion in the back of her head; although, her heart still raced, staring at the massive hand before her. Freya inched closer to Wyll and set the peashooter on his fingertip, his thumb gently pinched it and he brought it closer to his face. Wyll squinted as he looked over the miniscule weapon.

“It kind of reminds me of a catapult.” Shadowheart mentioned as she leaned over Wyll's shoulder. 

Freya gave an eager nod. “That's what my cousin was trying to base it off of… he's the brains behind the contraption.” 

“Well, it's a pretty creative design if I do say so.” Wyll set the peashooter near Freya. “Reminds me of the time I was fighting an ogre, didn't have anything but a crossbow and a singular arrow left.” 

Freya chuckled. “Sounds like a song I once heard in the tavern once.” 

Wyll raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? You wouldn't happen to know the hero in the song, would you?” 

Freya sat back, trying to conjure up a telling detail from the intoxicating fog that blinded her memory. The upbeat tune telling the tale of a hero who saved a nearby town from ogres played in her head. “It was… the blade of Frontiers!” 

A smirk spread across Wyll's face, his eyes darted towards Shadowheart, who shared a playful glint in her eyes. She leaned closer to the borrower and giggled. “Guess who he is.” 

“You're kidding!” She stared back at Wyll, when she pictured the folk hero, she didn't expect a half devil at all!

“So my tales have made it to borrower colonies.” 

“Well yeah, I mean, I've only heard bits and pieces of some of your tales… but I must have missed the ballads that mentioned your…” Freya gestured towards his horns.

“I suppose you wouldn't,” The dashing smile faded away. “Since this was a recent event.” 

“What happened?” 

“I made a pact with a devil.” 

“Why?” Freya's eyes widened, she's heard stories of people falling into these pacts and never being able to break them. To think the Blade of Frontiers was going to be another victim for a devil was a tragedy.

Wyll pursed his lips. “I'd tell you, but the pact binds my tongue to those details.” 

The air grew glum around the three, it was honestly becoming a sobering moment, too sober for Freya's liking. “Well, I may not know what your pact is about but I'll have a drink to it nonetheless.” She shot a cheeky grin before gulping down the rest of the wine. The buzz quickly returned to Freya with more force; she could barely sit upright now. Thank the gods she was resting on a pillow. 

Wyll chuckled at Freya and raised his glass. “Couldn't agree more, cheers mate.” 

“I'm starting to think you've had enough for tonight.” Shadowheart smiled. 

Freya scoffed and stumbled forward. “Please, I c-can handle so… much more!” 

The two larger beings threw their heads back and laughed, and Freya couldn't help but laugh along with them. This wasn't one of her most convincing arguments but it was a surprisingly entertaining time. For a moment, Freya could forget about the sheer size difference between the two and enjoy herself as if she were with old friends in the tavern, drinking up in the rafters as they watched weary travelers tell their tales over a pint of ale. A night that started off so poorly was slowly becoming a fond memory for Freya, one she was going to cherish because once the morning comes, she will have to part ways with this unique group of travelers.

[eff-plays]

hope this doesn't come across as rude (to you to be clear i'm not concerned with a video game man's feelings) but what does hira see in astarion? i know the fic will probably get into it but i'm impatient 😭

The fic will go into it!! So I don't wanna spoil it, but then again it will be months before we get to that point and maybe ppl will have forgotten by then. Or I will have changed my mind/come up with something else so lmao. Under cut for those who don't want spoilers either way.

They genuinely like that he's an asshole and that he doesn't censor himself even a little bit. Their line of "work" involves appearing as pleasant and attractive as possible, and they like that the moment Astarion doesn't have to do that anymore, he's like "um. I'm done being palatable. Fuck you forever." He's like "oh this fucking sucks" at any moment and yeah it's annoying but it's also like? Fun.

Like he tries? To be all suave and agreeable. But he's bad at it. And they like that he's bad at it because to them that makes him more genuine in a weird way. Cuz to them, being so good at pleasing people means you shave off bits of yourself in the process. Which he's done doing. And the fact that he's quite bad at being (deliberately) charming despite it being his job means to them that his core, his true self, is still there.

And that ties into how they like that he's resilient. That despite all the shit life (or undeath) has thrown at him, he's got enough of himself left in there to demand more, to demand better from the world. Hira knows instinctively that they also deserve better and could demand better from those who wronged them but they're also too scared and meek to go back and actually do that. They're happy keeping a low profile and doing shit they don't strictly want to just to avoid raising said profile. They're complacent in the sort of avoidant and flippant life they've built for themself so having someone who's just "no I know exactly what I want and I will get it or I will die shut the fuck up do NOT tell me I'm wrong or incorrect in any way" is very inspiring in a weird way. Like motherfucker is often wrong about things on a moral level but he knows exactly what he wants and what he's owed.

And to them that's like god. I wish that were me. I will help you weird vampire man. I need to see your dreams come true as a way to live vicariously through you.

So they're very proud of him at the end. Like he rly did that. Inspiring. Life-changing even. Muse behavior fr. The Radiant Hopeful stuff at the end just rly cements that. He goes from being a bad example/potential enabler to being a genuine beacon of hope. A-star-ion if you wi-- *gets shot*

[local-pirate-king]

Wooho, another chapter!

ch1 if you haven't read it yet

Pure chaos

ch2 Visitor

Astarion x male durge fanfic

warnings: Just the healthy bit of violence (basically one battle)

summary: The group grows

word count: 1817

(]|/\/\/\|{}::::::::::::::::::>

During all his years, Astarion never met such a strange person. The tiefling seemed to enjoy being threatened. Then that weird memory he saw as the parasites connected. This was a mystery he was reluctant to solve. Nerah was both interesting and terrifying, in his own way. Alas there were more important things to do anyway. After he was told everything there is to know, Astarion had only one goal in mind. Get control over the tadpole.

He couldn't just get rid of it, the protection from sunlight was something he didn't want to part with. It took two hundred years, but he was finally free. Sun couldn't harm him, Cazador couldn't compel him. The taste of freedom was like a drug and he was forming an addiction. Yet they had to eventually get rid of the parasite. Astarion needed protection, someone strong enough to face a vampire. Absentmindedly his eyes darted to Nerah. No matter the aura of mystery, this man looked like the perfect opportunity. He had everything he needed, someone to use if there won't be anyone more powerful, a way to do it and most importantly, a clear goal.

Ignoring the hunger that gnawed at him, Astarion followed the weirdo around. They collected a wizard on the way, another victim of the squids. Nerah pulled him out of a rock and Astarion decided quickly enough that he hates the wizard. This Gale of Waterdeep talked more than necessary and with an annoyingly wide vocabulary. The tiefling seemed to not even understand some of the man's words. Gale was exactly one of those types he decided to seduce once and never again. His master didn't punish him for it, but listening to them was enough of a suffering, especially when they somehow figured out that he's a vampire.

Shadowheart was better. She accompanied Nerah even before Astarion and seemed trustworthy enough, even though she clearly had her secrets. Only that name, Shadowheart, it was ridiculous. It sounded like something a sharan would call themselves. Astarion would bet that he can guess the name of at least one sharan, just by saying things which have anything to do with darkness. Hells, darkness might be someone's name as well. Overall, she gave him the impression of a rebellious teenage girl.

Before they could get too far, it was already evening and everyone was tired. Not surprising, considering that they just fell from a nautiloid last night. They set up a camp with what they found along the way, Astarion was only watching that happen before Shadowheart forced him to do something. All he did was set up his own tent anyway.

After everything was done, Astarion watched Gale as he attempted to cook with what little they had. That failed and they ended up eating pre-made camp supplies. Them, not Astarion, he just threw it into the nearest hole, hoping that no one will notice. The wizard was asking about the others' past lives, Shadowheart ignored him and Nerah only said that he doesn't remember. It was a rather interesting information, though.

While Gale questioned the poor tiefling, Astarion tried to use the moment to slip away and hunt. Unfortunately, Nerah was quick to answer everything and Gale found a new target for his curiosity. "What about you, Astarion? You seem like someone with an interesting past."

Astarion cursed under his breath and turned to face them. "There's not much to say, darling, I'm a magistrate back in Baldur's Gate."

"Oh, a person of the law, I once knew someone of a similar position and..." Astarion didn't even listen, he wasn't interested in Gale's stories. The wizard rambled on and on, nobody except Nerah paying attention and even in the tiefling's case, the attention was occasional, flitting between lost in thoughts and listening. "He was, however, not exactly a honorable kind." Astarion laughed at the last sentence.

"Alas, people of the law often happen to be your so-called bad people." It was a bit of his life that he still remembered. There weren't many good people and he wasn't one of those either. Why should he stand out in a world so full of cruelty.

Before Gale could say something again, Astarion hid in his tent. It won't take long until they retire into their own tents. He can wait and when the chance arrives, go out hunting. There was no way he could survive too long without blood. Astarion was used to starving, but not more than a month. It just so happened to be a little less than a month since he last fed.

He could hear heartbeats slow down as his companions fell asleep. It was time to shine. Actually, no, it was time to sneak. The whole thing should be easy, first Astarion just had to leave the camp. Taking a last glance around the camp, he spent a while listening to the delicious peaceful beats. It would be so easy, two hearts, each in a different tent. Until he realized. Two? Nerah was missing.

That tiefling could be anywhere and if Astarion went out to hunt, Nerah might see him. Just his luck. Yes, the hunger was horrible, yet it was better to starve for a little longer. Astarion could hunt another day as well, but not with a stake in his undead heart.

It was unbearable. How lucky Astarion was that they chose him to watch over the camp. The vampire briefly wondered about searching through their left behind belongings after being chosen, but after Shadowheart threatened to cut his precious hair it was obvious that he would never do anything such as that. Other than that he might attempt to get a drink.

Astarion set eyes on a squirrel that was unknowingly getting closer to death. Still, it was at the edge of camp and if he wanted to catch it, that would require to move. Just about to do that, Astarion didn't notice the person slowly approaching him, before she cleared her throat, startling him.

"Apologies for the interruption. Have you seen a pale tiefling around these parts by any chance?" The woman was an elf. Wood elf by the looks of it.

"Maybe. Any reason to search for this... pale tiefling?" Astarion didn't trust the woman and was genuinely curious.

That knowing gaze she kept looking at him with was slightly unsettling. She gave the impression of someone who shares way less than they know. Before the woman said anything, Astarion knew that it'll be a lie, or not the entire truth.

"I'm his friend and happened to hear that he's nearby." This statement rang truth, but not quite. There was something more behind it, something greater. Secrets.

"I'm sure you'll find him. Good luck." Astarion gives her a last wave for goodbye.

The woman wasn't convinced to leave so easily, though. "How do I convince you," she wonders aloud, "Hmm..."

"For gods' sake!" He rolls his eyes, this girl was annoying. "Fine, he's going to return here at some point."

She seemed satisfied, now waiting on the edge of camp. Astarion couldn't hunt anymore, not without getting caught. Therefore, he did the next thing on his mind.

This woman, apparently Nerah's friend, might know more about the tiefling.

___

"Open the gate!"

Nerah watched the human travelers and tieflings shout at each other. He saw it sooner than it was said. Goblins, many of them, marching towards the gate. With stupid creatures such as these, one would expect chaos and unorganized running, however this wasn't the case. It was strange, as if they somehow learned to fight overnight.

They found the gith along their way, Lae'zel he now remembered. She was already holding her sword at the ready. The goblin that was hiding near them was down upon a few magic missiles from Gale. Before long, a true battle started, with the travelers left to defend themselves outside the gate.

One goblin was stupid enough to run over to them, ending up swiftly dismembered by Lae'zel. Nerah noticed a warg ready to strike, killing him with a firebolt just in time to save an ally.

A familiar sound of an eldritch blast made him look away, catching glimpse of a man, warlock if his use of spells meant something. Although nobody paid him much attention, his line going unnoticed.

Nerah saw that the humans did quite a good work of most beasts down at the front, doing even better now that Lae'zel joined them.

However, he suddenly felt a piercing pain in his shoulder. An arrow, he got distracted and the archer took a chance. Instincts kicked in, the archer was screaming after a ray of frost him them, then another one died, then another, he barely made sense of what he's doing. It all went back to normal only once the battle was nearing it's end. There were only three left, all of them dangerously close to each other. The perfect opportunity for a bigger spell. He cast it, but his magic slipped from his grasp. Oh no.

Fortunately, it didn't do much before he got it under control, all that happened was that he appeared at the gate, which was rather convenient actually. The tieflings just started opening it.

___

He was having fun. The mysterious woman that came to their camp had quite the collection of stories. Astarion found that she is indeed a wood elf. Lina, as is her name, appeared surprised and concerned after learning that Nerah didn't remember anything. In return of learning that, she told Astarion some stories of Nerah's past. About his strict father, the distant relationship with his mother, a niece of his that he took under his care and many more little stories.

He was just laughing at a particularly funny story when everyone returned to camp. Everyone, including two additional members. Gale gave him a stern look. "What's going on here? Who's this?"

Lina ignored anyone else and approached Nerah. The tiefling looked at her with some level of familiarity, close to recognition, but not exactly. She wordlessly took his aside and started talking to him. Astarion didn't want to be incinerated so he did eventually answer. "Lina is apparently a friend of our dear tiefling friend."

"Of course." Shadowheart interrupted whatever Gale wanted to say. "It's completely fine to believe a stranger that happens to stumble upon our camp and says they're someone's friend."

"I must agree. Such things are unwise." The green creature criticized him as well.

Astarion rolled his eyes. "Alright. But don't expect me to be the one to get her out of here."

They all glared at him, except the new man. Nerah returned soon enough with the woman next to him. She had a strange smile on her face, something was going on and it didn't feel right.

Astarion briefly wondered of there's something more to Lina than meets the eye.

(]|/\/\/\|{}::::::::::::::::::>

And that's the second chapter. Thank you so so so much for reading. Also, do you like the new sword? I changed it a little.

This is also on AO3

[thatringboy]

Making the guardian in my Origin!Astarion run look like the Tav I first romanced him with and then proceeding to not romance Astarion with anyone in the entire run just to write my own in-game time travel/amnesia angst

The Emperor doesn’t know why this form - this giant Teifling man with eyes as soft as his jaw was sharp - is what appeals to the vampire spawn, Astarion certainly doesn’t know why he picked it either, but he can’t figure out why the Emperor’s disguise upsets him so much. He knew it was a false face immediately, he chalks it up to his decades of manipulating others. He’s disgusted at the notion of using the tadpole’s powers, despite how it could save him from eternity in the dark. He runs his hands along his back and immediately goes to Karlach to have her read his scars, so sure that the poem on his skin is written in the language of the devils.

He knows bits and phrases of Infernal somehow. Astarion laughs at the little curses Mol and her underlings whisper under their breath when they’re scolded by adults. He gives Wyll detailed instructions on how to care for his horns and hellish skin, far more detailed than Karlach’s instructions. He feels fury in his blood when he learns of Zevlor’s mistake, the Tiefling’s moment of weakness. Even as an exile, a Paladin should stick to his oath and those he swears to protect until death! He can’t explain why it’s any of his business.

Astarion doesn’t scoff at his childish dream of marrying a knight in shining armor anymore. He considers pursuing Wyll, but he’s too much like a younger brother. He considers Karlach, he’s certainly attracted to big buff Tieflings, but she’s more like a sister to him now. A proper family, but missing something integral, something he can’t put a name on. Yet, he still drags them with him to kill Cazador, and personally spits in Mizora’s face, and tracks down Dammon in the city to desperately repair Karlach’s engine before it’s too late.

When he learns there’s no sun in Avernus, Astarion silently makes a pact within himself to join her down in the hells on her journey of survival. Why wouldn’t he? He’s got nothing waiting for him in Baldur’s Gate. Lae’zel’s flying with Orpheus, Shadowheart’s found her father, Gale’s gone back to Waterdeep, and Halsin’s opening an orphanage(?). So he goes to Avernus, braves the hells with Wyll and Karlach, becoming the very hero he hoped would save him once upon a time.

And in Zariel’s castle (because of course they’d end up there), he finds a notebook. A journal kept by the vampire lord of Ravenloft. In it are entries that detail the methods of curing vampirism, one only needs a Wish spell. And, hey, Astarion’s an Arcane Trickster! And he’s best pals with Gale of Waterdeep!

He teaches himself the Wish spell, he uses all of Cazador’s wealth to cast it, only to discover that he’s already used the spell once. He can’t use it again.

But when did he use it? Why did he use it? He can’t remember so like any reasonable person, he gets Gale to use the spell instead (it nearly kills the poor man, but oh well) and has Gale wish that “Astarion will forevermore never be a vampire spawn again.”

And Astarion wakes up in a slimy, small pod with a weird squirming behind his right eye, watching armor-clad individuals running around with a sentient brain on legs trailing behind them like a lost dog. And he licks his mouth and finds no fangs. Just normal teeth. And his gut lurches horribly as the cycle begins anew, this time just with his memories unfortunately intact.

[eurydices-carnation774]

Before the dawn breaks

Karlach talks to wyll after Mizora transforms him

Wyll x Karlach if you squint?

word count: 1007

Fluff, a little angst

A few days had passed since Mizora's visitation with Wyll. A few days since she had punished him for not killing Karlach. Wyll was no stranger to his appearance changing with his number of scars and lost eye, though being turned into a tiefling had been a different experience. Suddenly growing horns had been somewhat painful, he kept bumping into things and they were sore as the hells.

As the sun set over the camp Wyll had found himself doing the same thing he'd done the past few nights. As he sat in his tent, with miscellaneous books scattered around, he traced his fingers over his horns. He normally did this as he didn't keep a mirror with him so trying to feel out how they looked was his best bet. Of course he could ask to borrow astarions... though the vampire would probably ask for something in return, owing Astarion something was probably a bad idea.

So, he sat with a solemn expression trying to gauge how he looked, all while occasionally cringing for how weird his horns felt. This had been the routine for the last couple nights. instead of him reading a book or talking with others. While Karlach admittedly didn't know him well, he fidgeted with his horns the way he did concerned her.

She'd seen people become tieflings on occasion, it was quite often in Avernus. While Wyll seemed to be handling it well, she knew it was probably a lot for him to take in. And to think she'd been the cause for his transformation. The mighty Blade of Frontiers, who had been actively hunting her down, gave up his humanity to save her. The experience with Mizora coming down and turning him caused her to see Wyll in a much more affectionate light. The fact that he had given up so much for her despite their previous feud.

Though, normally people are adjusted to the change after the first day and a half. Wyll still hadn't come to terms with being a tiefling after the third day. It worried Karlach, possibly more than she wanted to admit. It was worrying enough for her to go check up on the man who had sworn to kill her.

As she approached his tent, Wyll's back had been turned, his now deep maroon hands feeling the base of his horns. She stood for a few silent minutes waiting to see if he had noticed her behind him, her tail slowly swaying behind her. After a few moments he turned around, the glow from her engine seemed to have been enough to cast a shadow.

"Karlach? Do you need something?" He seemed to have not realized that she had noticed him fidgeting with his horns for the past few days. She looked at his horns, then back down to him. Their height difference was small but just barely noticeable, Karlach having about two inches on him.

"How are you holding up? After... y'know..." She looked at him in a way that felt like this was the first time she had seen him since he was changed. She took in some of his features that had changed finally, the ram-like horns, the deep maroon color his skin had turned. Though, he didn't grow a tail and neither did his ears change. It was clear that he had been a human before.

He briefly opened his arms and looked down, gesturing to himself.

"This?" His words were sad, a lot of the time he sounded a lot sadder than he was. Karlach quietly nodded, unsure of how to respond. It was a hard topic to just casually bring up, Karlach could see how it had affected him. Though, due to their history she didn't know how to approach him.

"You don't really seem like you've been yourself. Not since Mizora noticed I was still alive."

"Well, I'm not really myself physically either." That sentence hurt more than it needed to. Though, she knew how it felt to look at yourself and not see the same person you once knew yourself to be. Still those words cut deep.

"I know it's hard change but you're still you, still The Blade of Frontiers." Karlach lightly folded her arms and shifted her weight, slightly tilting her head as well.

He warmly smiled, something that felt weird for the two of them. "Karlach, I've already said. Only strangers call me that."

"But I'm not your friend either, yet." She paused before saying yet. While she hoped they could become friends she knew it was kind of a tricky situation for the two of them. "You spent years trying to kill me. Though I know get why you were, it doesn't exactly feel like the best thing to base our friendship

off of."

He hated that she was correct. Only for the sole reason of Mizora consistently impacting his relationships. He could've had a normal relationship with his dad if it weren't for her, and now Karlach too. Despite everything, he still doesn't regret making a pact.

"We don't have to be friends simply because I was forced to kill you. That's not how this works. I'm tired of Mizora interfering with the people I know."

Karlach smiled, partially to herself. It was nice to see Wyll somewhat standing up for himself. Even when getting Mizora to let him go, Tav still had to do most of the convincing.

"That's good, though you still haven't really told me about how you're doing. I won't even lie, seeing you like this is a little worrying." She lightly gestured to his deep brown, damn near black horns. He paused for a few moments before speaking.

"It's hard. I'm not even sure how my dad would react to seeing me like this." He broke eye contact, shifting his gaze, looking at nothing in particular. Karlach quietly nodded again before lightly chuckling to herself.

"I would hug you right now if it wouldn't kill you." Wyll nodded at her comment.

"Yeah, that'd probably be nice."

[athkatla]

i always thought it was weird you couldn’t accuse astarion of being a vampire waaaaay earlier in the game (like, from the moment you met him) because... dude has fangs. and puncture wounds on his neck. and rarely sleeps. and is white as a sheet. and then the boar! and if you haven’t had it revealed by the time that you meet the monster hunter in the forest, like... hello! 

so anyway this is my version of MC knowing astarion is a vampire and wanting to accommodate that but also not wanting to tell anyone else that astarion is a vampire because... that’s his secret to tell

“Did you find anything good?” Valexen stood next to Shadowheart. The cleric was rifling through a crate of supplies and occasionally she stopped to pluck something from the contents and place it gently into one of their packs. 

“I did, surprisingly. We will have quite the feast for the next few days,” the woman said, sounding triumphant. “Take a look for yourself and try to dream up some dinner ideas.”

Val crouched near the bag, her red tail swishing inquisitively. Slowly she picked through the contents. There was a good bottle of wine, purple and orange carrots, a half-head of fresh cabbage, a whole melon, and-

Garlic.

With a quick glance to Shadowheart, who was still rummaging through crates, the tiefling plucked the garlic from the pack and attempted to nonchalantly place it near the base of the crate. She hoped that the cleric would not notice.

But of course she did.

“Did you-” Shadowheart asked, glancing down at the lone bulb of garlic. The dark-haired woman’s gaze shifted to the garlic-less pack. “Why did you take it out?”

“Oh, I thought it had gone bad,” Val said, clearing her throat.

Shadowheart inspected the garlic closely. “No, it’s fine,” she said, her dark eyes narrowing at Val. “Why did you take it out?”

“I’m - allergic,” she said lamely.

“You’re allergic to garlic? Why didn’t you just say that instead of being sneaky about it? Why would you hide that?”

Val crossed her arms over her chest. “Hey, aren’t you the one that hates questions? I’m not going to answer any of yours - you never answer any of mine.”

“Asking questions about my private missions is not the same as disclosing an allergy,” Shadowheart said with a scoff.

“An allergy?” Gale echoed. The wizard had been sorting through a scattered bunch of parchment, hoping for a magic scroll. Apparently his search had come up empty handed, as he now approached and joined the two women. “Who’s allergic to what?”

“Val here is apparently allergic to garlic,” Shadowheart said.

“Allergic?” Gale asked, eyebrows raising. “My deer stew had garlic in it.”

They were both looking at her now, Gale confused and Shadowheart suspicious. Briefly, Val’s fiery eyes glanced toward Astarion, who was very busy pretending to be cleaning off his daggers. 

You little bastard, I’m doing this for you, the least you could do is back me up, she thought, but outwardly she only shrugged.

“Yes. And I was sick, later that night. Threw up all of it, I’m sorry to say. A tragedy, because it was so good and filling,” Val said smoothly, snapping her fingers as if she had just remembered something. “You never gave me that recipe. Maybe we should do it now. Can someone find a bit of parchment-”

Gale was too eager to scrawl down the basic recipe for her, making a list of every Kara-Tur spice that should be in the dish. Shadowheart watched them with narrowed eyes for a while, but eventually she tossed the papery garlic bulb back into the crate and the group moved on.

------------------------

Several nights later, Val found herself covering for the vampire again, this time at camp around dinnertime.

Wyll approached, a bowl of hot soup in each hand. As he walked toward her, his gaze flickered to Astarion, who was lounging by his tent with a book in hand. 

“Have you noticed that he never eats with us?” Wyll asked quietly, shifting one of the bowls into Val’s grasp as he sat next to her on her usual log. “Here you are.”

“Thanks,” she said. “And uh, no, I haven’t.”

That was a lie. She had, of course, noticed. She had also noticed how he slinked away from camp anytime the scent of garlic was in the air, she had noticed his aversion to running water, the fang marks on his neck, the exsanguinated boar-

Wyll gently blew on the hot contents of his bowl. “Sometimes I’ll try to give him a plate of something and he always says that he just ate or he’s not hungry,” he said. “When does he eat?”

“I’ve seen him eat,” Val assured him.

“Really?” Wyll asked in surprise. “When?”

“I don’t keep track of it, I’m not logging his eating habits in a journal,” she said with a small laugh. Wyll grinned, shrugging.

“Fair enough. I wonder why he doesn’t join us.”

“I think he might be too good for our food, if you know what I mean,” she said. Yes, that sounded believable. Astarion had a tendency to appreciate the finer things in life and had used the word peasants more than once. This would hopefully be a smooth lie. “I think he has a pack of his own food that he hoards away like a dragon.”

Wyll looked intrigued. “Got any goodies in there?”

“Oh, no, it’s all-” Val took a slurp of soup. “You know, rich people food.”

He laughed. “What’s rich people food?”

“I thought you were the son of a nobleman,” she said, which made Wyll smile again. Val found herself grasping at straws suddenly. “You know. Chocolate from Maztica and... ah, caviar.”

“Chocolate and caviar?” he asked, making a face.

“Yeah. Just... junk.”

“Ugh. No wonder he’s so pale - man’s got scurvy.”

“Yeah,” she said slowly. Val did not feel the need to point out that scurvy tended to make a person’s skin yellow, not white. “Definitely.”

[lairofsentinel]

More thoughts about Gale and his abandonment issues

[Baldurs Gate 3 spoilers, not much of an analysis, just thinking aloud in case I want to return to these thoughts later during my playthrough]

Checking all the scenes of Gale on youtube so I can finally drag myself into the fucking hell of writing a fic of an early access game [can you reach lower? probably not] I keep wondering about all the layers that his character has.  The more I watch him, deeply unfolding the subtleties of the words he uses (because he doesn’t use any word lightly) I became more confident in the fact that, probably, he won’t abandon the MC if, of course, you don’t treat him like shit. 

He speaks about Mystra with certainty as something left in the past, as something he knows he was a mere plaything. Mystra destroyed his petulant wizard pride, taught him humbleness in the hard way, and basically was the cause that ruined his life ending with a tainted orb stuck in his chest. After which she abandoned him. He was not innocent, but that doesn’t mean he was guilty. Now, he is a more mature char, he knows a lot about limitations and the lack of powers. He finally learn about mensures.

He also speaks about embodiments. He doesn't put in doubt that Mystra is and always will be his muse when it comes to magic. It makes sense, without her, there is no magic at all. But he leaves a pretty clear room for doubts when it comes to love. She abandoned him when he needed her the most... so how much can he truly forget that? 

I bet there is more to his quest in which, through small details and situations, the MC slightly becomes the embodiment of mortal love. And by digging the datamining audios, there is a phrase that made me shift my opinion about a potential abandonment coming from him: “You are all too quick to abandon the one you promised yourself to. It’s not a quality I admire”. I have no idea the context, but it makes clear that, sure, Gale can bend his philosophy about certain aspects, but abandonment is not something he would be flexible. Leaving someone behind when they need help is something that reverberates in his psychology too much to be flexible on that matter.

There is another instance of abandonment/betrayal during the game in which Gale expresses his strong opinion: when you can hand over Astarion to Garadel. Gale was never happy to keep Astarion in the camp, he doesn’t like vampires like most humans in general. However, giving him to Garadel causes his disapproval. He even compares the situation with a friend of his whose dog got old and meaner, and such friend ended up putting the dog down. The whole conversation is tense and acid, showing that clearly these attitudes are not something he can bend, not even for a vampire! 

Now I’m more convinced he won’t abandon the MC [at least with all what we saw/listened in Early Access]. He may have done shit when keeping all his drama secret until sleeping with the MC to share it, but it makes sense for the dread he feels for abandonment. Abandoment issues are strong in his char. It would be extremely crappy and out of his character to do the same kind of abandonment that Mystra did to him but to the MC. It’s hard for me to picture it now. Doubts, grey sentiments, even poliamory? Sure, I can see all that in different degrees of potentiality. But leaving the romanced MC feels too out of character.

However, I still keep thinking about his comments after the party, they are mega crappy. xD They would look convincing for a teenager, but man, we are talking about two mature grow-up persons... I can’t stand the crappy cheesiness in the middle of the shit to smooth the situation. 

“How I could ruin the chance for us to happen?” wow, man. And that decision apparently was only yours to make, uh?. 

“I dont know what I did to deserve the magic you do.” Fucking cheesing shit completely out of place that causes cringe, get out of here, you fucking asshole. You have abandonment issues, my MC has trust issues, this crappy phrase wont fix a damn shit, damn you. 

“You are incomparable” Lol. That’s the biggest one. Accomplished scholar of fuckign Waterdeep, ex lover of Mystra, who watches Mystra’s profile every night, wants to convince the MC that he is not comparing the ex with them. All that stuff of “I’ve been thinking in the moment we shared in the Weave” can’t be done without thinking about how it was the experience with Mystra and with the MC, how that connection, unique and, until that moment, he only had with Mystra, now seems to be possible with the MC. Mystra IS the weave... fucker. Fucking lie. He has been comparing a great deal.

The final kiss. Like... the mood of the whole moment has been ruined. A small break of trust happened (reasonable, understandable, pretty easily forgivable given the context) but the bitter taste still is there... leaning in to the MC and kiss them... is weird. After some cheesy words everything is ok.... pft. Give them some days, or maybe one day since the tadpole is a rushing matter, but the whole thing was an icy bucket falling down, it can’t be ok.

It’s more annoying what Gale says to keep the situation smooth than what he truly did... I mean... talking about an ex lover in a deliberately bad time out of fear? Sure, happens (problem is that Gale gave enough hints to make the MC understand that Mystra is far from being over). Talking about a netherese orb after having enough intimacy because he is trying to exploit the acceptance recently earned? Sure, understandable with the abandonment issues he has (and to be honest, not so terrible if you think all of them have a tadpole and the looming potential of turning into a Mind Flayer, which is quite more dangerous in the harm they can do over different planes than a mere massive explosion of netherese magic). But all that charming prince crap going out of his mouth? oh, man. Stop it. xD

[bledmagic]

**the following is no way indicative of direct rp interactions & is solely referring to the personal canon to idrylla. if your muse wants to refer to the closeness of one of the companions listed here by all means, unless you are holding another rper muse in mind as that connection is different & not based upon these by the interactions idrylla & that muse has had. however if you would like to base interactions on these descriptions with your muse def lemme kno & we can plot on this further !

idrylla is not the only focus of the story, they are one of many that line the cast of our main tale & the interactions between idrylla & these characters drive the story forward or back. as the game still rests within the area of early access & there are hints from datamining of future companions this list is not complete nor is it going to contain anything proper beyond act 1 in terms of connections. with the previous statement said, here is each of our companions & the relationships held with idrylla as per the canon to their character & me. **i will note if i have romanced a npc like this, as the game is in early access n just like in who’s line is it anyway the choices n points dont matter there is no canon romance for idrylla at this moment in time. 

LAE’ZEL: idrylla has very few memories of the nautilus. their capture, their containment, & the escape itself is somewhat of a blurry mess. what they do remember is lae’zel. they remember her face, her struggling, her escaping that pod. they saw the moment the mind flayer infected lae’zel & the fear held within the githyanki’s features. all of this is unspoken between the two, but for idrylla it’s spurned a lot of emotions that have boiled down to pushing idrylla to get close to lae’zel & be quite defensive of her with strangers( shadowheart can make a few insults as a treat, lae’zel in return can make some serious threats in return as a treat ). it is with the first weeks of travel idrylla can be found hanging out along side lae’zel like a safety net, finding the familiarity of their escape as a bridge to base a friendship upon. despite that link that idrylla has tied between them they find lae’zel absolutely delightful in every way possible & considers lae’zel probably the closest friend idrylla has had in years, the honesty lae’zel shows in the most blunt way a refreshing change from the passive aggressiveness of the wizards guild peers. beyond all this, lae’zel is also the first githyanki has ever known & has prodded the poor warrior with a multitude of questions to absorb the info like a weird elf sponge, even going out of their way to learn on their own & ask lae’zel about later on. idrylla holds lae’zel’s opinon in high regard & often will ask her or look to her for her advice & even if not followed takes it in consideration. anyways they are best friends. ( lae’zel: we are not ‘friends’ / idrylla: you’re right. we are best friends, pal. / lae’zel: tch. ) **lae’zel has been romanced 

SHADOWHEART: while idrylla did try to save shadowheart from her pod, idrylla also has particularly failed at every turn to get shadowheart to even attempt to trust them. traditionally anyway. since the common ground of the parasite & needing to team up & trust each other has failed to get shadowheart to loosen up, idrylla has taken the approach to just be a utter nuisance to shadowheart. often chiding the other with jokes or teases, stirring up trouble between shadowheart & lae’zel, forcing shadowheart to go talk to people at parties( notable example is when idryl forced shadowheart to dance with them at the big fun tiefling celebration party in which shadowheart was so emabrassed she probs would have died on the spot if she wasnt actually having fun the whole time ), etc etc. shadowheart stresses idrylla out, so tightly wounded & clearly bothered by something that is clearly at times more dire than the worm in their brain. it activates idrylla’s older sibling mode near instantly as often the fussing of the other reminds idrylla very warmly of their younger siblings, one being very similar to the uptight cleric. when shadowheart does breakdown some of those walls & reveals her religious beliefs idrylla presents themselves as very accepting. while agnostic themselves, they do make a point to show they hold no ill will to shadowheart & support them, but more importantly wants shadowheart to learn to rely on them from then on to be more honest about anything. it’s after this shadowheart tends to be less antagonistic toward idrylla. but only a little less.

WYLL: idrylla noted early on that the “”””stone”””” that rests in his socket has a heartshaped looking pupil & annoyingly( to everyone except wyll himself ) calls him hearteye. as a baldurian they are very well versed in knowing the various tales & stories of the blade of frontiers. wyll is idrylla’s favorite drinking companion & the two get along like a pair of bros in a budding bromance that will make the fans go crazy. wyll holds a hard sense of justice that idrylla tends to think of a buzzkill at times, but does value the pull of morality his chiding holds considering her own moral standing at current is fuzzy at best. she does truly worry about how skiddish he tends to be about his guarded secrets & once learning upon the truth they promise to aid them in his quest to save his ‘totally not devil girlfriend’ & when wyll protests about such a title idryl simply responses ‘oh no i totally get it, hearteye.’ with a laugh & wink. idrylla also has wyll teach them the use of the blade, taking those teachings & applying them to their learnings of the staff as a weapon vs a channel for magic. often one can see them sparing in camp on down time. wyll is also the only one of the companions who gave idrylla a proper condolence when idrylla’s less than tragic backstory is revealed to the the companions, to which idrylla who was properly touched thanked him with a hand to their heart & a ‘aww, thanks man. you’re a real one.’

ASTARION: idrylla is far softer on astarion than they should be & they will deny it. usually such a judgement of letting astarion getting away with ( in most cases, literally ) murder is preceded by a loud groan or sigh. it’s not that idrylla wants to dull astarion’s sparkle, but more of a general worry. the more idrylla learns of him, the more & more they just feel bad( astarion: i rather be spared of pity, thanks / idryl: it’s not pity. i don’t pity you its just. well hearing that shit that happened to you ? makes me sick, man. horrible things to go through. makes me want to hit something. ). but the primary worry is what will happened to their newfound friend once the parasite is extracted, will astarion burn up in the sun ? prevented from hanging out with them at bars ? will they not be able to find something for him to eat on the journey they set on ? idrylla has no real way to comfort astarion in the face of his past & it makes them uncomfortable. all that can be offered is a arm about his shoulder & a ear to listen.  beyond all this, however, the two get along disturbingly well. idrylla’s current fuzzy moral standing & general pull to do really stupid things setting a stage for the two of them to act in their own chaotic fashion. the two make comments with each other that would make people wonder if they share a braincell. idrylla often pulls lae’zel into their shenanigans much to her dismay. the fact that astarion is a vampire spawn has absolutely zero negative effect or reaction from idrylla. **astarion has been romanced

GALE: i hate these two. considering gale being a wizard busybody i have to do the most divergent shit with this mf. love this catdad, anyways here go. gale & idrylla absolutely know of each other prior to the events of the game & have a loving rivalry friendship thing going on. they have met a few times due to the wizarding guild( take in mind, this wizard guild is something im developing for idrylla & is not canonical to the game ) of which gale would visit, but is not apart of, due to his associations. the two never had a proper moment of conversation prior but are as i said, very aware of each other at least in terms of their talents in magic. so whilst there is a pre-established link between them they are without a doubt strangers. their rivalry comes out at any time magic is spoken about or knowledge thereof. a interesting change in demeanor for idrylla who, for all intents & purposes before & during the events, tended to not have a proper ambitious or know-it-all bone in their body. the two will often agree about magic or purposely disagree. they speak of other wizards & generally are capable of working together to figure out spells or something magical in puzzles. when gale says that idrylla knows nothing about the weave, it took everything in idrylla to not set him on fire. when faced with the truth about gale’s utterly stupid need to consume magic & the reason behind it, idrylla simply just starts smacking him on the arm & calling him an idiot( considering idrylla’s recent expulsion from the wizarding guild spurred on by peers that are  power hungry & would do whatever they could to get ahead, the ordeal of gale sits very heavy on idrylla. while they does apologize later & explains the why. ). over time the two have gotten less antagonistic to each other & more or less bicker for the fun of it, showing that the two have found themselves more or less comfortable with each other & in their aventures found respect in each other’s talents. so far anyway. idrylla has threatened to steal gale’s cat( in jest to make gale wig out. )