#i am retconning astarion clawing up from the coffin because eat my balls skksk

[morgana-ren]

Thinking about Astarion's parents and what it must've been like if they truly loved him and then one day he was just .. gone. Gone from their lives forever. Maybe his mother kissed him as he rolled his eyes and his father told him to stay safe today. Maybe he was a reckless, brash, arrogant and decadent young elf barely out of adolescence making his way up in the world but he was clever and bright and full of life and the light of their lives and then one night he just never came home to them

He just disappeared into thin air and his friends and family hadn't seen him and after years and years of misery and torture and horror, they were finally forced to accept their baby boy was dead, another victim swallowed by the gaping black maw of Baldur's gate, having a bodyless burial with a headstone carved in his remembrance because they couldn't take another year of not knowing. Of not knowing what happened to their son.

He was loved. He was loved and missed by someone. When he disappeared, someone mourned him. Someone he can't even remember after centuries of misery and torture. Someone visited his grave. Someone wept for him. Someone paid to have him put to rest. Someone loved him.

He prowled the streets by night that his parents searched by day. Endless. Dogged. Hell for a mother and father robbed of their child. Searching for a single sliver of silver hair in the crowd. His bright smile. His handsome visage, perhaps taking after his father. Perhaps one day he would come home. They could pray and pray that one day he'd find his way home to them. That he isn't dead. One day that never came— and never will.

Because he cannot even remember them. Even as he is free, he cannot remember. Just another thing Cazador took from him.