#burning down cazador's palace

[spacebarbarianweird]

Burn, Butcher, Burn!

Synopsis: Before leaving Baldur's Gate for good, Tiriel and Astarion have one more thing to do.

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Tags: fluff, traumatized Astarion, things and places are burning

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Please! Let me out! Please!

Cold. Hunger. Pain.

How long has he been there?

Months? Years? Decades?

Astarion has bitten his wrists to get at least a few more drops of blood. But it only made him hungrier. He dreams of fleas and rats and worms because at least those vermin are alive.

He hasn’t moved for so long. He wishes only for death.

But he is already dead.

And it’s only getting worse.

The torture will never end. His skin will be flayed. His body will be raped. His bones will be broken.

Over and over again.

The reverie lets Astarion go. He stares into the darkness – full of shades of grey thanks to his elven darkvision. 

He isn't in the coffin.

Astarion licks his lips. Memories slowly crawl back dispelling the nightmares.

Could it be…

Something moves beside him. A body.

Is it another conquest? Another victim? Is it?

Astarion elbows up fearing he will see an unfamiliar face.

Tiriel nuzzles into his chest. Her breathing is steady and so is her heartbeat. She is as warm as a fireplace. She has a bandage on her neck, and Astarion catches a subtle scent of blood.

It is real. All of it.

Freedom. 

Love.

Satiation.

Warmth.

Astarion stares at Tiriel’s face.

A month ago, they both got rid of the parasites and Astarion had to return to the darkness. 

He expected Tiriel to abandon him once she saw him for what he really was.

She didn’t.

And she is still there, by his side.

He watches her, studying her facial features. Tiriel hugs him, sharing her body warmth with him, and he knows his cold touch would feel uncomfortable to her if it wasn’t for an extremely thick blanket covering them.

Suddenly Tiriel moves and opens her eyes.

“Hm? Are you awake?” she asks.

“Yes”

She turns on her back, tugs her blanket and falls asleep.

Of course, Astarion realizes she woke up because he was staring.

Astarion sits up, putting his legs on the floor.

He needs something to occupy himself – it’s still daylight outside, almost noon. And Tiriel needs to sleep.

Sleep. Such a strange concept. Elves need to get absolutely wasted or drugged to experience what others have to go through daily. Would he be happier if he could sleep? He remembers his siblings – Petras’ stupid smile, Leon’s peaceful face.

It seems like he and Daylria suffered the most – elves who couldn't escape from their misery to the dream world.

Astarion stands up and sits on the floor.

What to do?

Boredom was such a weird concept – he never experienced peace in the two centuries of misery.

And now he has all the peace in the world.

And Astarion doesn't know what to do with it.

He opens a book. Closes it.

So many books to read. And he can't choose any. He lacks concentration. Before, he could have only dreamt of indulging in all these simple luxuries, but now, he simply can't make himself.

He fears being punished.

Beaten. 

Astarion curls at Tiriel’s side. Plants a kiss on her back. Deep down, he wishes to wake her up, to hear her voice soothing his anxieties.

What if she were an elf like him and didn't need to sleep…

Nonsense. Astarion can wait a few hours before Tiriel returns to him. 

He lets Tiriel go and leaves the bed. He approaches a small window and hears voices from the outside. He doesn't dare to open the thick curtain for even the small amount of sun will leave him in pain and burns.

It's been a week since the netherbrain, and the city was being slowly re-constructed – whole streets were destroyed. Astarion knows the city will never be the same again.

He doesn’t feel sorry.

Astarion hates Baldur's Gate.

He hates these streets and these houses, these taverns and inns. The streets are full of homeless people and beggars. The whole city used to be his hunting ground. The whole place used to be a brothel. How many people of different races did he bed? How many times did he lie on his back or on his stomach while yet another ‘lover’ used his body to their liking? How many times did he use his mouth to go down on them? 

Didn’t any of them notice he was already dead?

And how many times did he wish to die?

It’s still hard to believe it is all over. 

He tugs the curtain just a bit to see the outside but not be burnt. They stay in the upper town, which was relatively untouched by the debris, but the place is too familiar for Astarion.

He can see the Cazador’s mansion.

It’s still there. Dark and empty. Even though many people lost their homes, no one dared to stay there, maybe, believing the lord and his invisible servants were still somewhere.

It looks like a menace, like a warning that nothing is over. Nothing will ever be over…

Nothing…

“Hello, love,” Tiriel mutters, elbowing up.

Astarion flinches and realizes it’s almost sunset outside. How long did he stay like that?

“You should have woken me up. Though I think I want to sleep for days,” she smiles. Her face is puffy, her hair is messy; she is the most beautiful person Astarion has met. “Can I kiss you?”

Astarion suspects he smiles like an idiot. 

“You know you don't have to ask?” he murmurs.

“But I like to.” 

Tiriel puts her palms on his cheeks and kisses him. For a brief moment, there is nothing but her warmth, her heartbeat, and her scent.

She breaks the embrace and Astarion adores her face. Freckles, deep wrinkles on her forehead when she smiles, her lips, her eyes (one blue, the other is green), half-elven ears – he still hesitates to tug them when she is in his arms, and, gods, her fire read hair that looks like a flame in the sunshine.

Pity he will never see her like that again.

Tiriel pulls away and looks out the window. Then, she frowns.

“Something on your mind, my love?” He touches her cheeks. She nods.

“Astarion, I need to go and do something. Will you be able to find me at sunset? You know… by…”

“Now that my vampiric abilities are back I can catch your scent even in that wretched crowd of a city. Don’t worry. I can always find you.”

“Great, because honestly, I am afraid to get lost.”

Tiriel pulls away, but Astarion grasps her arm. The very idea of staying in that room alone scares him.

He doesn’t want it.

“But can’t we do that together when it’s dark?” He pouts.

“Please, it’s almost sunset. You won’t regret it.”

Astarion feels torn apart. He is afraid Tiriel is going to leave him. What if she is scared of him? And wants to run away? What if there is a ship that will take her far away from him and she just has enough time to board it?

But if he keeps pushing…What if it makes her realize he is a lost cause? What if he is breaking something between them right now?

What if…

“Astarion look at me,” Tiriel asks and he realizes he’s been staring at the floor. “I am not going to leave you. I don’t want to break up. I’ve been telling you that every day since you returned to the shadows. I made a choice and I am not regretting it, at least, for now. I just want to do something – just find me at sunset, all right?”

“Good,” Astarion sits on the floor and takes a book. “I will try to occupy myself.”

Tiriel quickly puts on her clothes and leaves. Astarion feels her scent fading as she goes further away.

He must get used to it. He won’t be able to keep her all by himself the whole day long and she will have to go away from time to time. But it doesn’t mean he feels less lonely.

When it’s dark, he jumps on his feet and rushes outside. 

Strange.

Her scent is still very close, though he thought she would be waiting for him in the Lower Town.

He covers his head with a hood and follows the path. Then he realizes …

… that he follows a way too familiar path…

It's the road to Cazador’s mansion.

The same narrow streets he used to walk returning back with yet another victim. Or without anything, knowing he would be flayed and beaten.

He stops hoping he’s mistaken, but Tiriel's scent leads him directly to the mansion.

But why? Why?!

He is getting angrier with every step he has to make. How dare she force him to come back? How dare she?!

Then he feels tears pricking his eyes. He has only recently started grieving his past and everything that was taken from him.

He finds Tiriel at the wooden tower. Its enchanted guardians left the place when Cazador died and now it is as empty as everything else.

Tiriel sits at the table and there is a sack at her legs.

“Hi!” She waves at him. “I’ve been missing you!”

“Why did you bring me here?” He demands. His voice betrays his emotion, he knows he sounds like he is about to cry.

“Well, first, I found some good prospects for us – so we can leave the city tomorrow and never come back. And second – you can cast ignis, can’t you”

Astarion raises his hand feeling how magic fire prickles his fingers. Yes, this spell was always his. It was something natural for him, a fey magic, but Cazador forbade him from using it. Because otherwise, Astarion would be able to warm himself. And now he can use it freely.

Tiriel smiles again and raises her hand. She inherited the same skill from her elven ancestors. 

Create small balls of fire and throw them into enemies. The problem with Tiriel is the fact that when she is in her berserker state, she can’t concentrate on magic. So it’s more like a game to her rather than a weapon.

“So, I suggest,” she opens the sack showing a few dozen glass bottles. “We burn this place down! And if someone wants to punish us for arson, we are going to be far far away.”

“And what is that?”

“A gift from gnomes. Looks like water but burns like a spirit. This place will be set on fire with all its fancy stuff, beds, chambers, ugly paintings, dust, and whatever is left here.”

Tiriel laughs as if she is going to have the biggest fun in her life.

“I never noticed you were a pyromaniac!”

“Astarion, there are many things we need to learn about each other. And a new fact about me – I love burning things. I love setting places on fire. And I so much enjoy hearing you casting ignis. Makes me want you even more than I usually do. But”  She closes the sack. “If you don’t want to, just tell me, and I will sell the potions at the market.”

Astarion lets out a laugh. Gods. He has been dreaming of burning this place down for centuries. Cazador couldn’t prohibit his thinking and Astarion liked imagining this place on fire. He often would imagine himself burning too, because vampires can burn.

But he has never said it to Tiriel.

But she knew he would love it.

Astarion takes the heavy sack. 

“Yes. Let’s burn this fucking place down!”

Tiriel grabs his hand and makes him follow her into the dark halls.

One bottle for the room of the favorite spawns.

Two bottles for the chamber where Astarion had to sleep with his victims.

Three for the torture dungeon.

One by one they throw bottles in rooms and closets. Astarion rips the rugs and curtains, and Tiriel breaks the paintings and furniture. 

A bottle for the tower of Cazador’s niece.

A bottle in Cazador’s wardrobe.

Astarion curses. And laughs. He dominates his own past and Tiriel encourages him to keep going.

“Oh look! The bastard had so much whiskey and wine! What for?” She says opening the wine cellar.

“For parties,” Astarion finds the most expensive ones and throws them on the floor. “And sometimes he would try to drink himself to numbness.”

“Watch out!” Tiriel grabs yet another bottle but Astarion jumps to her and snatches it from her hands. “What?”

“It’s Berduskan Dark. The most expensive wine on the Swords Coast.”

“And?”

“It costs 1500 gold at least!”

“You wanna sell it?”

“I don’t,” Astarion opens the cork. “It is dark, like blood, and sweet.”

“Like blood?”

“Yes,” he chuckles. “It has a very high alcohol content. Can knock out an ork. I wonder where he took it from.”

Tiriel shrugs. “You know I don’t like wine.”

“You just never tasted a proper one,” Astarion smiles. “Open your mouth.”

Tiriel obeys and sticks her tongue a bit. Astarion gently takes her head and pours wine into her mouth. The Berduskan Dark streams down Tiriel’s throat and along her chin, staining the shirt.

“Oh fuck,” she mutters gulping the wine. “It burns my tongue!”

“Yes, like it's supposed to. Keep drinking..”

Tiriel takes the bottle and takes a few more gulps. Astarion thinks maybe he should have offered her a goblet, but it’s too late.

She finished almost the whole bottle off.

“Fuck!” She slurs and almost falls off the table. “I don’t remember ever getting wasted so fast.”

“Good.”

“Oh…That was your plan! You wanted to taste Berduskan Dark!” Tiriel puts the cork back. But I do it only for you because I don't really like it!”

Astarion tugs Tiriel and kisses her wine-stained lips.

Then, he imagines himself in the same room mere months ago. 

What would he think if he knew it was possible? To destroy that cellar, to kiss a person he wants, to get drunk together?

“What was the bastard's favorite place?” Tiriel asks.

“Come on,” Astarion takes her hand and leads her through the dark halls to the throne room. The black armchair made of dark wood looks ridiculous and pompous. “The bastard thought of himself as royalty!”

“But he was a moron. Neither the bhaalists considered him a target nor Gortash invited him to his coronation,” Tiriel falters. Now she is completely drunk.

Astarion pulls her to the throne and makes her sit on the soft pillows. Cazador’s pillows were made of some expensive fabrics – the ones that were supposed to always be clean.

“Can I bite you?” He asks.

“Of course.”

Astarion grazes her throat. He doesn’t care about the mess he is making. He wants to create a mess. 

Tiriel’s blood spills over the throne and pillows and Astarion tastes alcohol. Then he suddenly feels happy. Darkness fades away, replaced by intoxication and satiation. 

As for Tiriel's clothes, he will wash them. Or will get her new ones. Doesn’t really matter.

“Now we are both drunk,” she pouts.

Astarion almost falls when he takes the last bottle from the sack. Tiriel hugs him and starts murmuring drunkenly.

“You are so cute, you know that? And your ears stick so funny from your hair! You look like a dandelion!” She laughs as if it was the funniest joke she’s ever heard.

Asatrion smashes the last bottle and the fire and liquid mixes with blood. 

Tiriel raises her hand, trying to cast a fireball.

“No!” He shuts her mouth. “Are you stupid? The whole place is soaked in wine and this gnome shit!”

Tiriel bites his palm. And then starts laughing and snorting.

Astarion grabs her waist and lifts her on his shoulder. She keeps laughing and insulting Cazador, calling him a miserable dork with no imagination.

“Like, he was immortal and powerful… But he didn’t bother to go hunting himself! What was wrong with him? I mean, was he afraid of people? Astarion, you fed him dirty drunk homeless idiots who haven’t washed in decades! And he was all right with it? I mean, I know there are idiots! But this is some new level for me!”

Astarion approaches the main door. Turns back. Sees the mansion for the last time.

“Burn in hell,” he says. “Burn!”

Then he opens the door with his leg and gets outside.  They walk a few yards then he places Tiriel on the ground (she barely can walk by herself) and she immediately opens the cork of the wine bottle.

“You said you didn’t like it.”

“But you did.”

Astarion raises his hand and feels the fey fire prickling his fingers.

“IGNIS!”

A fire ball is thrown through the open door into the hall.

And the vampire mansion is set on fire. 

Astarion watches the fire consuming his past, destroying his misery.

And he cries.

He cries out loud like a lost child, clinging to Tiriel as his source of comfort and warmth. And Tiriel drunkenly starts singing him a lullaby.

“Tsk. It’s all right, my love,” she whispers. “It’s all right. We are starting anew tomorrow. We will see so many places together that you will forget that mansion. And I will touch you so many times it will make all the dirt you’ve been through fade away.”

Astarion keeps crying as they walk back to the inn. And Tiriel, drunk and dizzy, falls asleep in his arms in their bed.

**

The touches don’t burn his skin and he doesn't feel disgusting. It's something new. Astarion turns back to see naked Tiriel napping on the grass. She sleeps shamelessly, her legs half open and the fresh bite mark barely healed,

Astarion knows it’s a reverie. A weird memory he doesn’t know how to feel about. It's the first time Tiriel was his. He kissed her, he hugged her, he had sex with her. It was all a game for him but something else for her. 

The memories slowly set him free and he realizes Tiriel is still in his arms. She doesn’t sleep, that’s for sure, but she also doesn’t move, allowing him to relax in her embrace.

He reaches out for her ear and tugs it, forcing her to squirm.

“Half-elves do have sensitive ears!” he laughs. 

“That was weird,” she mutters. “Do it again.”

“You don’t need to ask twice,” he repeats the same motion. “Are we leaving today?”

“Yes,” she puts her arms on his back. “And we aren’t coming back, love.”

--

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#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion fics #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #spacebarbarian fics #tiriel of the sunset mountains #tiriel the barbarian #astarion x tiriel #oc tav: tiriel #astarion smut #baldurs gate 3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion baldurs gate 3 #astarion fanfiction #astarion my beloved #astarion imagine #astarion x oc #tav x astarion #astarion fluff #astarion x tav #astarion nightmares #arson #burning down cazador's palace

[ghost-proofbaby]

i’m sorry but can we talk about how fucking devastating it is to hear it repeatedly said in the game how godey and cazador found astarion’s screams to be the “sweetest”?

the way he was the one who always screamed the loudest. when he was being tortured for days in the kennel by godey. when cazador was carving the runes into his back. centuries, and no one ever helped him or saved him. for centuries, he was screaming and begging for mercy, and it only egged his abuser on more.

no wonder he disapproves more when you repeatedly help and save people. repeatedly, he has to watch you save all these people, knowing no one ever saved him.

yes, i’m actively sobbing over a video game character. i want something more painful than just death for cazador.

#he never deserved any of it #when godey said that to astarion my jaw dropped #i can’t go into the fight with cazador right now that just #that fucked me up #when romancing him i should have the option to also hug him and not just kiss him #because what the fuck #i want to burn entire cities down for him #where’s the option to just burn the palace to the ground #where’s the option to put cazador in a tomb for a year to starve and be consumed by the darkness #and i thought i wanted that fucking drow dead for suggesting i owned him lmao #i’d genuinely die for him #listening to missing limbs by sleep token and yeah that’s me for astarion #’cause it still makes my blood run thin to remember what you are to him’ #he deserves a soft ending. to know how loved he is. to be fucking SAFE #even more devastating than when i found out he dies if you don’t keep him in your party/camp #if astarion doesn’t end up with you #he ends up with cazador #i just #fuck this game

[sserpente]

After

Synopsis: You help Astarion wash off the blood after he kills Cazador. He doesn’t say much—but you can tell he needs you now more than ever.

A/N: I thought of this the other day and I almost cried. So I wrote it so that you can almost cry as well.

Words: 897

Warnings: trauma responses, fluff

Astarion was being unusually quiet, his movements robotic and too automatic as if he was somewhere else entirely in his mind. And he was. You couldn’t blame him. He had his own demons to deal with after what you had just witnessed.

His hand was still clutching the dagger so tightly his knuckles turned white. But not even the blood stains on his bare skin could manage to disfigure him. He was as beautiful as ever despite the streams of tears drying on his cheeks.

You’d wrapped your cloak around him after he announced he wanted to get out of there, eager to respect his wish. There was nothing left for him here. It was over. Now all he had to do was to heal, slowly, from the trauma the past two hundred years had caused him.

Both Shadowheart and Gale had offered to help calm him down with magic but Astarion had been quick to decline. It was dark outside by the time you left the palace—a welcome circumstance. Though it was not uncommon for citizens to roam the city drenched in blood every now and then, you were certain Astarion was grateful for the absence of curious and suspicious looks as you made your way back to the Elfsong Tavern.

It wasn’t just Cazador’s death of course. He’d turned it all down. The ability to walk in the sun, the powers Ascension would have granted him… Now he’d return to the shadows. But he wouldn’t do it alone, that you were going to make sure of. He had you.

He was still silent by the time you returned to your room upstairs. Whoever had decided to stay behind today—Lae’zel, Wyll, Jaheira, Halsin and Minsc—their eyes all went wide the moment they laid their eyes on the blood-drenched vampire spawn.

The questions were burning on their tongues, you could tell. But they held back. You cleared your throat.

“Would you guys mind… leaving us for a bit? Join the others downstairs for a drink maybe?”

“Understood,” Jaheira said. She waved her hand and nodded, compassion glistening in her wise eyes. “Take your time.”

“Astarion…” Minsc pushed Jaheira out of the way, earning him a groan. “Is… is Cazador dead?”

“Yes, he’s dead, Minsc,” you answered for him. Jaheira grabbed his arm and dragged him along with her before he could say something else. Wyll, Lae’zel and Halsin followed suit.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the latter announced. A few heartbeats later, you were alone.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, love.” Your voice was barely a whisper but Astarion heard you nonetheless. He nodded and finally allowed you to peel the dagger from his grasp. You set it aside on a table and lead him to the washtub in the corner of the room.

The cloak slipped from his shoulders, sailing to the wooden floor. He made no move to pick it up, no move to help you as you filled the tub with warm water. In fact, you weren’t sure he even saw you do it. But when you moved away to get him a fresh towel for later, you heard him.

“Don’t leave,” he said softly. Your eyes darted back to him, taking in the vulnerability and helplessness surrounding him like cold mist.

“I won’t. Ever. I was just gonna get you a towel.”

“Don’t leave,” he repeated.

The chest with your things was just around the corner, still, you opted against it. You forced the corners of your lips up and nodded, returning back to his side.

He didn’t protest when you removed his bloodied trousers and had him step out of them, didn’t resist when you made him climb into the tub and eventually, undressed yourself and reached for a sponge and soap before joining him.

Silence filled the room, water dripping as you dunked the sponge in. His sigh the moment it touched his cool skin was heartbreaking.

Inch by inch, you washed off the blood, pressing feather-light kisses to his chest and his face every now and then. Once you were done and the very last traces of Cazador had vanished, you cupped his cheeks, gently forcing him to look you in the eye.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Astarion nodded. “I just need…time.” To process. To decompress, to let everything that happened today sink in.

You nodded. “I’ll be here. I’ll always be here, Astarion. I am so proud of you. What you did today…that was the bravest thing I have ever witnessed. You didn’t have to do it and it wouldn’t have made you any less brave if you hadn’t faced him. But you did. I love you. And I will do anything in my power to help you through this, whatever you might need.”

The vampire smiled—it was a weak smile, and it didn’t quite reach his eyes. But it was sincere nonetheless.

“Thank you, my love. Thank you.”

You remained in the bath until the water was cold. After tiptoeing over to the clothing chest naked to finally retrieve the towels to dry off, you cuddled up in bed together, your limbs entangled and his face pressed against your neck. His breath evened surprisingly fast as he slipped into trance and you too closed your eyes, holding on to him tightly until you were certain he had found peace for tonight.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion imagine #astarion fluff #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunin imagine #astarion ancunin x you #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion ancunin x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 imagine #bg3 #bg3 imagine #neil newbon

[lets-just-daydream]

i wanted more to astarion's storyline at cazadork's palace so here we are with my overactive imagination. also a hug for astarion because bro needs it

Summary:

It's almost time. Beyond the large ornate doors you'll find Cazador; you steel yourselves but a whisper of your name catches your attention from one of the prisoners behind the gate. An old flame.

(aka imagine you run into an old friend instead of astarion running into sebastian)

"No really, tell me more," Astarion said, barking out a laugh.

You hid behind your goblet of wine and laughed at his curiosity. "Have I really never told you about him?"

You had offhandedly mentioned an old flame of yours from a couple of years ago and this piqued Astarion's interest. The two of you sat side-by-side in front of the campfire, the rest of your company already retired to bed and as per usual, you and Astarion were still up.

"No, you haven't. So go on, tell me everything," Astarion said.

How to explain your strange relationship with Xavier. "Well, he's from a more or less noble family in Baldur's Gate and his father never really approved of our friendship. You know, with me being not at all noble."

Astarion kept quiet, sipping his wine as you explained.

"We spent a lot of time together and one day, I stopped seeing him as a friend and I fell in love with him, I think. He felt the same, too. He was walking me home one night after we'd been out at a tavern and when he saw me to my door, he kissed me."

You smiled and your cheeks flushed slightly at the memory. Astarion raised a brow and felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest at your expression. He couldn't help but wonder. Who was this man? Why wasn't he around anymore? Did you still love him?

You cleared your throat and continued. "After that night… I never saw him again. I assume his father found out about us and had him sent off and married to some noblewoman."

"What? He kissed you and then he disappeared?"

"Yes. I still don't know what he's up to now but I hope he's happy and out of his father's clutches."

Astarion put his wine down. You had fallen in love, kissed him and he had disappeared after the fact and you weren't cursing his name to the hells and back? Astarion figured you'd be at least a little bit slighted but you only wished the best for this Xavier.

"Do you still love him?"

You looked up at the pale elf and let out a laugh. "No, that was a long time ago. I still get a bit sad when I think back on it because we were so naïve and full of hope for the future," you said, a wistful smile on your lips.

Astarion knew this man could still be out there. You could still find him and return to him and at that thought he felt his chest burn. He didn't want you to find Xavier. Astarion wanted to be the one you thought of when you had these small wistful smiles on your face.

Sure, the sex you two had a couple times since meeting was great and Astarion had told you that his feelings were more than superficial at this point. But in an act of self-preservation he hadn't told you just how intense his feelings for you were. He figured you felt at least a little bit the same but this Xavier revelation threw him for a loop.

The elf played it off and held his hand out to you which you took. "Still, that must have been awful for you."

You nodded and didn't much feel like reminiscing on the past anymore. Instead, you decided to look to the journey ahead and what you were doing tomorrow. The real reason Astarion was still up tonight.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Astarion?" You asked as you stared into the flames of the campfire.

Astarion raised a brow at you in question.

You sighed. "Tomorrow. Cazador."

The vampire's gaze flicked to the fire then back to meet yours and he shot you a sure grin that you had learned to see right through a long time ago. "Of course I am. I've only been waiting 200 years for this."

You didn't have the heart to tell him off for the mask he slipped on. Normally you'd tell him that he didn't need to hide his true feelings from you, that you understood him and would never exploit his trust. And with time, he really had learned to trust you. You got to see a side of him he rarely ever showed and you were grateful. It made your heart beat for him in a way you had never experienced before.

But tonight, the tension and uncertainty in the air with how tomorrow would go down, you granted him this.

"I know you've been ready forever but, just know that if it gets too much at any point, I've got your back. We all do," you reassured him. "Just say the word."

Astarion gave you a rare, soft smile in appreciation and leaned over to drape his arm over your shoulders.

"I don't know what tomorrow will bring," Astarion said, his voice serious. "I don't even know if it will happen how I've forever dreamed it would. Pissing on his ashes, enjoying his screams as I tear each digit and limb from his body." Astarion sighed. "Maybe I'll die before I even get to lay a finger on him."

Your heart dropped. "Perish the thought," you said sternly. You turned to face him fully and you rested your hands gently on his cheeks. "I will never let anyone hurt you. Especially not Cazador."

Astarion's lip curled into a slight smile at the way you spat his master's name. You seemed like you hated Cazador as much as Astarion did without ever meeting the man. Not that you needed to. Astarion had told you countless horror stories of his life under his master that made your blood boil and tears threaten to spill.

You stroked his cheek with your thumb. "I'm sorry he took so much from you, I feel awful for what he did to you over these 200 years. I can't even begin to imagine it. And I… I feel strange to say it but I'm glad I met you."

Astarion's brows shot up in surprise and you thought you had gone too far. Too intimate. You dropped your hands but he grabbed one and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly before letting out a sigh. "I'm glad I met you too, you're remarkable and I sometimes feel…" he trailed off. Now it was his turn to get flustered.

"What?" You coaxed.

"No, it's stupid," Astarion muttered as he looked at the ground. A very rare moment of insecurity.

You turned his face back to you and held his gaze, your eyes boring into his. "If you don't want to continue, that's alright."

"It's just…" He struggled. "I don't know. There's some moments, when we're talking like this or even in the middle of our romps, I feel as though I've lived this long because I was meant to meet you."

His words caused you to still and you felt your eyes water as he held your gaze, unsure of how you'd react to his candor.

"Oh, Astarion," you gasped as you leaned forward and wrapped him in a hug.

He held you in his arms and buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent, committing it to memory. He didn't know what tomorrow held. He didn't know if he'd make it out alive. But he had you and that was enough for tonight.

~

You awoke in Astarion's tent the following morning, his arms wrapped around you tight and one of your hands in his hair. Before he had even properly risen you could feel the tension in his body. You can't imagine the stress he must have felt all night. Today was the culmination of 200 years of misery, pain and torture and you meant to end it.

You stroked your fingers through Astarion's hair and he stirred, his eyes opening and landing on you.

"Good morning, beautiful," he greeted, his voice deep from sleep. "What a sight to wake up to."

You smiled and stroked his soft hair, wishing you could just… lean forward and give him a soft, loving kiss.

When you moved to get up, Astarion held you firmly in place, his eyes never leaving yours. Words on his lips that he didn't know how to formulate. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours softly. Soft enough that you could escape if he had misread everything. But he hadn't. You leaned into the kiss and slid your hand down to cradle his head as you pulled back. He chased you and held you firmly in place as he deepened the kiss, his movements almost desperate as he rolled you over and landed on top of you.

"Astarion," you breathed.

This was happening. Intimacy. Outside of just having sex. Or maybe this was leading to that but this kiss just felt different.

"Gods, I love the way my name sounds coming from your lips," he whispered against your skin before ravishing your lips once again.

He slipped his tongue inside your mouth and you granted him entry. You were mere putty in his embrace and you moaned softly as he cradled your head in his hand, his movements gentle but with an undertone of urgency. Like this would be the last time he would get to kiss you. You could understand the sentiment and tangled your fingers in his soft hair, pulling him close and taking his bottom lip into your lips, causing him to let out a breathy moan.

You had to eventually pull away to catch your breath, your heaving chest, flushed cheeks and parted lips made quite the sight and Astarion wasn't ready to let you go just yet. He leaned down to claim your lips again.

"Astarion, are you awake yet?" Gale called from outside his tent.

Astarion let out an annoyed huff before looking down at you, hoping that his actions could speak where words failed him today. He gives you one last soft kiss. "We'll finish this later."

You could only nod back dumbly as he stood and offered you a hand. Astarion stepped out of his tent and shot Gale a glare, holding the flap open for you to leave.

"Ah," Gale said to you. "Sorry about that, didn't realise that you were also in there…"

You waved him off and moved to your tent where you dressed and readied yourself for today's stomach-churning quest.

~

Getting into and around the Szarr's palace was surprisingly easy. Astarion charmed the guards on the way in and you were met with little resistance when you entered.

"Being back here…" Astarion shivered. "Can we just get this over and done with as quickly as possible?"

You made eye contact with Gale and Shadowheart and nodded.

You searched the palace as quickly as possible while Astarion sadly explained his memories of the places you wandered. You wanted to stop and give him a hug at every discovery you made but you'd be here forever if you did. You painfully kept your hands to yourself until you found an ornate ring that looked rather important.

After some more exploring, you found an elevator that even Astarion didn't know existed. But as soon as you all stepped in and started descending, he became even more nervous. His body stiffened and his eyes became steely. You stepped closer to him and offered him your hand which he took with a hint of a smile.

You descended into one of the most ornate but cold hallways you'd ever seen. It was grandiose, but uncomfortable and with a sense of foreboding. You all knew Cazador was somewhere down here preparing for the unthinkable. None of you could say a word. No funny quips about the architecture or loot you found.

You slowly descended the stairs and stepped towards the doors in front of you. Astarion's grip on your hand tightened slightly and you rubbed your thumb against his skin, trying your best to soothe him. You didn't think anything could soothe him right now.

Your heart beat intensely in your chest and you felt like you could vomit. You can't imagine how Astarion is feeling right now, about to walk back into the clutches of his master, not knowing if he would prevail. No. He would prevail and you would help him.

Astarion glanced around and you opened the doors, holding your breath and peeking through. You didn't see Cazador, but you could hear murmurs. Voices. You cautiously stepped through and were met with two large cells either side of the hallway, all filled with dirty, ragged looking people.

Astarion dropped your hand and it flew to his mouth. His eyes widened as he looked at the people in the cells. He recognised these people. He knew these people. These were people he had killed years and years ago. Or so he thought. He approached a cell and looked in at the countless people he had brought to Cazador. People he thought his master would feed on and then discard. But no. There were hundreds of ragged spawn.

"I… I don't believe it." Astarion gasped. "I never knew… Cazador was doing this."

At hearing Astarion's voice, the spawn in the cells turned to look at you and it was clear that a few of them recognised him. But to your surprise you heard a soft call of your name. The voice was vaguely familiar and your heart dropped.

You turned to the source of the voice and found yourself face-to-face with a haggard, red-eyed Xavier.

"X-Xavier…?" You asked, shocked. You felt like you were about to faint. "What are you doing here?"

You stepped towards the cell and he mirrored you, gripping the bars with his dirty fingers.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. "They didn't get you too, did they?"

You glanced at Astarion and if it were even possible, he was paler than usual.

"No, I'm– We're here to help you," you replied softly. You let your hand slide up the bar and come to meet Xavier's hand. Tears welled in your eyes and your voice became strained. "How long have you been here?"

Xavier's face scrunched as he tried to remember. "Hmm. I think… That night I walked you home and we kissed. I was so happy and unaware of anything around me. On my way home one of Cazador's spawn took me. It's all I've been able to think about. It's one of the only things I remember."

Your head spun and you felt like you could throw up. "No," you gasped. "T-Two years… You've been here all this time?"

The tears you'd tried to hold back fell all at once as you looked up at the man you once loved. "All this time," you sobbed. "I'd hoped your father had forced you off to marry some noblewoman."

Xavier smiled and rubbed your whitening hands where they still held the bars. "No. But even so, I would have come back to you. Somehow."

You stood back up and wiped the tears from your face. "I'm going to get you out of there, you're going to be okay."

Xavier nodded and looked over your companions gratefully until he landed on Astarion. "No…"

You sensed Astarion stiffen behind you and you hoped the dots you were staring to connect weren't true. You prayed, you hoped, you begged silently. But Xavier's next words pierced through you like an icy lance.

"You brought me here…"

You turned and looked at Astarion and he couldn't meet yours nor Xavier's gaze. He stared down at the floor and nodded, his eyes hooded and unreadable. He knew what he'd done. He knew what he'd caused you to lose. The words you spoke last night could only extend so far and now that you knew it was Astarion who had caused Xavier's disappearance. How could you forgive him? He couldn't bear to look you in the eye.

Shadowheart stepped forward and put a hand on your shoulder. "Come on, let's go deal with that monster and free your friend, okay?"

You nodded, your body moving in slow-motion as you approached the large ornate doors that held Astarion's fate on the other side.

~

It was a hard battle, made harder when you had to dodge through Cazador's minions to free Astarion from the binds of the ritual. The whole time you fought, you thought of the pain Xavier had gone through, the agony and torture Astarion had gone through and quickly enough, the pale elf had his master on his knees.

Astarion was right on the edge of having it all. Being an ascended vampire. He could walk in the sun after the tadpole had been dealt with, he wouldn't have to fear anyone again. He'd be a greater vampire than Cazador ever was. He asked for your help. But you know such great power never came free. There was always a cost.

What toll would sacrificing thousands of souls take on Astarion? Sweet, tortured Astarion who had been through hell and back and had made leaps and bounds to start becoming a better man. Someone you had grown to love. You couldn't bear to see him ripped apart like this.

But then again. You could help to give him this awesome power so few could ever be granted. You did want this for him, really, but your thoughts wandered back to Xavier and the countless other spawn who were waiting to be freed. Who you'd promised this to.

You looked back up at Astarion and shook your head. You imagined the life he could have. "Please don't do this, Astarion. Don't you want to live a life you can be proud of? I know you're better than him."

At your words, the fog in Astarion's mind cleared and he looked down at Cazador, blade in his hand. "You're right. I can be better than him." Astarion's gaze flicked down to a pleading Cazador. "But I'm not above enjoying this."

Before you knew what was happening, Astarion stabbed Cazador, hacking at him over and over until the former master was nothing but a lifeless, bloody corpse. You felt a fraction of the gratification Astarion must have felt as Cazador's screams filled the chamber before slowing into a gurgle and finally stopping. The pale elf dropped the blade and stepped back, a pained cry ripping through his throat. He'd done it. He was free.

He was free.

At this astronomical realisation, Astarion dropped to his knees and cried. He cried for the man he was when his heart still beat, cried for the centuries of torture he'd endured and cried for the life he'd had stolen from him. The culmination of 200 years of torture beyond belief and the aggressor was finally dead.

Astarion cried out again and you stepped toward him and knelt beside him. He suddenly felt warmth as you enveloped him in a hug and he held onto you, turning to face you and sobbing into your neck.

"My sweet Astarion," you whispered. "It's over now. I'm so proud of you."

At this, he sobbed harder for a moment and you ran your fingers through his hair and rubbed comforting circles into his scarred back. You didn't rush him, Gale and Shadowheart said nothing and let him take all the time he needed. After another moment, Astarion leaned back and caressed your face, his own face streaked with tears, blood and dirt. You saw how teary he was and the mixture of disbelief and hope for his future and your heart squeezed.

His brothers and sisters were freed from their magical shackles and one of his sisters approached, asking if it really was finally over.

"Yes."

Astarion then explained to his brothers and sisters what to do, where to take the freed spawn and wished them good luck. As they left, he stood and took Cazador's staff in hand, the following movements came to Astarion instinctively as he pressed it to the ground to free the thousands of trapped vampire spawn.

You smiled as you watched him. You truly were proud of Astarion, he would still be self-preserving and perhaps paranoid after you left but you hoped as time went by, he would be able to relax. Truly enjoy his freedom. You heard voices from the other side of the doors as Astarion's brothers and sisters greeted the other spawn. Your mind wandered to Xavier. At least he would have a chance at a new life, whatever that life may be.

"I think we're done here," Astarion said, tired. "Let's go."

You draped his arm over your shoulder and helped him up the stairs as Gale and Shadowheart led the way. They stopped at the top and shared a look before looking to you and stepping aside. The spawn had started filtering out but one remained near the cells. Xavier.

You approached him slowly, Astarion still hanging off your shoulders. Gale stepped forward and took Astarion off of you so you could have a moment. Astarion shot him a look but they lingered within earshot much to Gale's dismay.

"You did it. You freed us," Xavier smiled.

"Of course we did. I promised you that I would," you said. You swayed slightly on the spot and Xavier stepped forward, taking your hand in his.

"Will you come with me?" He breathed.

You almost weren't sure what he said but the way Astarion bristled and lowly hissed, you figured you'd heard correctly. Your blood ran cold and you were thrown back to 2 years ago, Xavier's kiss and the smile he gave before he left, promising to see you soon.

"Look, I," you didn't even know where to start. Your heart broke for him and the life you could have had together but you had closed that chapter long ago. You knew who your heart belonged to now, if the pale elf wanted it.

You tried to form into words your thoughts. How to explain that while Xavier's life was at a standstill, you continued living, loving and growing. Your heart ached as you tried to form the thought of, 'you know that vampire spawn who brought you here? Well I'm actually in love with him now, so…'

"Don't tell me it's him," Xavier gestured to Astarion who looked about ready to rip the former's head off. "He… he ruined my life, our lives."

You felt tears well in your eyes. You knew how hard this must be for him. He's thought of you nonstop for 2 years and you were about to tell him the man who ruined his life is the man you were choosing. But you knew Astarion. He wasn't that man anymore.

"Xavier, I can't go with you," you said. "I still have so much to do and… it is him." You sighed. This wasn't how you wanted to confess your love for the vampire spawn. You imagined it on a night you were alone and having a gentle moment. But here you were in front of your former love, your companions and the object of your affections all hanging onto your every word. "I know it's hard to come to terms with, Xavier… But it's always going to be Astarion."

You didn't see it but Astarion smiled and his face gained a bit of colour once again at your words. Xavier nodded and pursed his lips. He understood. He didn't like it, but he did understand and the finality in your voice told him that you weren't changing your mind.

"Well," Xavier said, lifting your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. "If you ever do change your mind I'll be somewhere in the Underdark. I'll wait for you forever."

"Please don't do that," you whispered, your voice hoarse.

Xavier smiled and gently dropped your hand, turning to follow his coven of vampires to start a new life.

You sighed and watched as he left, years welling in your eyes. No one moved an inch until Gale and Astarion shuffled over to you and you felt a hand slip around your waist.

"Darling," Astarion breathed.

You could form no words and now it was your turn to cry in Astarion's arms. His skin was still caked in blood and sweat but you didn't care. He held you and stroked your hair as you sobbed into the crook of his neck.

"H-he was down here all along," you sniffed. "And I didn't know. I could have looked for him or… I don't know."

Realistically you knew you could never have done anything but you still felt like Xavier's fate was somehow your fault. Well, it wasn't your fault. Really it was Cazador's fault… Astarion's fault.

"Why him?" You asked, pulling back and looking up at Astarion with watery eyes.

He knew this was coming, honestly. You'd want to know why. How could Astarion pluck someone so innocent from the shadows who he knew was having such a wonderful night? You knew Astarion watched his victims, picked them carefully. He'd told you so himself. So, of course you'd want answers. And he knew that you knew it wasn't personal - he was doing what Cazador told him to. But it didn't hurt you any less.

"Let's get out of this dreadful place, clean ourselves up and we can talk," Astarion offered.

You nodded silently and stepped away from him, leading your small group out of the castle and to the tavern the rest of your group organised upon entering the city.

No one spoke another word the whole trek from the castle to the tavern. The rest of your companions swarmed you at the door but fell short when they saw your grief-stricken face, Astarion's unreadable expression and Shadowheart and Gale's awkward side-eyes.

You stepped past everyone, gathered some of your clothes and retreated into the bathroom wordlessly. Astarion watched you the whole time, wondering if this was it. Was this the straw that would break the camel's back? Would you send him away? He supposed now that he was free, he didn't really have anyone to fear anymore, he might be able to make it alone.

Alone. Not a feeling he was used to anymore. Not a feeling he wanted to experience, especially if it meant losing you.

In the bathroom, you were pleased to see that the bath was already filled with warm water, so you stripped your dirty clothes off and entered the bath. A sigh escaped from your lips and you let the water rush over your body, your thoughts stilling for a moment before you let out a choked sob once again.

You rested your head behind you on the tub and stared at the ceiling. What possible explanation could Astarion even give you? Xavier was one person in thousands that had fallen victim to Cazador's plot, Astarion included. But it didn't hurt any less.

The door to the bathroom opened slightly and you saw white curly locks poke through the gap. "May I come in?" Astarion asked.

"Sure," you said, your voice monotone. Flat. Not something he was used to hearing from you.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, standing in front of it. His movements were careful, unsure. He stood by the door with his hands clasped together as his eyes shot from the floor, to you, to his surroundings and back to the floor.

He took a deep breath. "I know there's nothing I can say to make this better. I can't take it back and I can't fix it."

You said nothing, waiting for him to piece his thoughts together.

"I've told you what it was like, being Cazador's slave. I did what I had to, to survive and that included bringing people to him that didn't deserve it," Astarion stepped towards you and knelt by the bathside, finally meeting your eyes.

You'd seen true sadness in people's eyes before and you had caught Astarion in moments of sadness previously. But this was different. He wasn't just sad, he was sorrowful, and fearful. You almost reached out to smooth out the wrinkles on his brow but he continued talking.

"I know he meant a great deal to you and I… ruined so much. I'll do anything to show you I'm sorry. And if that includes…" Astarion trailed off and gulped before continuing. "If that includes me leaving this camp, then I will. I'll leave and that will be that."

"No!" You cried, leaping onto your knees and wrapping your arms around him. "No, I don't want you to leave, ever."

Water splashed onto the floor and dripped all over Astarion but he didn't care. He wrapped his arms around your naked torso and held you close, squeezing slightly as if you might float away and disappear.

You craned your neck back and looked at him. "I am upset. And… It is sad to learn Xavier's fate, but I did mean what I said down in those dungeons," you whispered. "It's you. It's always been you and for as long as you want me, it's you I want."

You hardly knew what was happening before you felt Astarion press his lips to yours in a searing, passionate kiss. It took your breath away and he poured his love for you and fear of losing you into it, never had you ever been kissed like that and you couldn't help but return it. His lips captured yours and you felt his fangs nick your skin but you didn't care, you opened your mouth up to him and he didn't hesitate in slipping his tongue in, tilting your head back so he had complete control over you. It felt like if your bodies could meld together they would and your breathing turned heavy as you fought with not wanting to break the kiss but needing to pull away for air.

You eventually broke the kiss, your chest heaving as you gulped for air. You eyed the pale elf in front of you and looked like he was ready to pounce on you again. You let out a light chuckle and sat back in the bath again.

"Would you like to join me? I'll clean you up."

"My love," Astarion whispered as he stood, removing his clothes. "I'll join you anywhere."

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #red writes

[tlonista]

A whole mess of Astarion hurt/comfort fanfic recs

OK fine I've read so much Astarion hurt/comfort-adjacent fic that I should really put together an incomplete rec list. Be warned that with Astarion's canon backstory there's a lot of abuse and assault references of varying explicitness, so check the AO3 tags. I'm also limiting myself to one fic per author because otherwise I'd end up with several pages of Asidian and FlowerCitti. In case you're wondering, my personal contribution to the field is Seducere.

Ongoing Fics:

innocence died screaming by FlowerCitti

Comprehensive pre- and in-canon Astarion character study. Contains possibly the most heartwrenching post-Astarion-locked-tomb-era turn I've ever read. Very good.

Another Path by Asidian

A sweet Wyllstarion monster hunter x monster no-tadpole AU in which Astarion gets captured/rescued by Wyll straight out of a year in a coffin and navigates basic human kindness for the first time in a couple centuries.

Seen by ayvaines

Modern Bloodweave AU where Cazador is Astarion's cruel, controlling boyfriend and Gale is the kind D&D GM who's hosting them both in a game. As makes sense for a modern AU, it's a more-understated-than-canon take on Astarion coming to terms with the fact that he's in an abusive relationship, working out his feelings about Cazador through tabletop roleplaying, including some clever scenes dealing with the bleed of intense RPG sessions.

Heartbeats by LadyRagnelle

Canon-divergent Durgestarion fic where Astarion was recaptured by his siblings, memory-wiped, and then rescued by a team of companions he no longer remembers. A lot of well-executed (and sometimes surprisingly funny) angst around Astarion, charlatan that he is, trying to pretend he hasn't forgotten absolutely everything including how to be a non-level-1 rogue and have friends.

The stars began to burn by peregrinefeathers

Gale is trapped in fantasy nullspace and gets Astarion free of Cazador's clutches, after which they navigate an odd-couple relationship while trying to kill Cazador and pull Gale back into the physical world. Another classic "Astarion learns what human decency is" no-tadpole AU.

Memoir by IzzyIzGay

An Interview with the Vampire-style fic in which Astarion tells Gale about his time under Cazador, playing with that series' trademark unreliable narration and an unusually literal version of Cazador's creepy family dynamic.

Starved by neo7v

A modern non-magical Bloodweave AU featuring Astarion and the lonely degradation of a precarious service industry job! Only a few chapters so far, but seriously, it takes the "vampiric starvation" theme in a direction that's very mundane and miserable and compelling and it's one of my favorite recently started fics.

Unexpected Guests by Erandir

Another "get loved and cared for, sucker" no-tadpole AU featuring a non-Tav druid OC taking care of a lost Astarion who's escaped Baldur's Gate. Astarion and druids, the perfect foil.

Through The Night Dark And Drear by JJJSchmidt

Astarion is accidentally bargained off to an archfey by Cazador and taken to the palace of infuriatingly confusing fair folk magic! There's still a lot of story left to be uncovered, but I love the worldbuilding and fairy-tale premise.

snare by parsnipit

A Halstarion fic where Astarion never got tadpoled and the gang ends up rescuing him from Cazador, post-game, with his compulsions very much intact. Which leads naturally to hissing wet cat Astarion reluctantly learning to trust Halsin while they plot to take down Cazador.

One-Shots:

Quick Step by starkraving

starkraving's another person who could have made up a big chunk of this list, and this character study plays really well on the classic "how the hell does Astarion know how to be a rogue anyway" fandom conversation. My favorite entry in a good and growing series of Astarion-centered fics.

Gifts by Feena_c

Astarion gets caught by Cazador before the confrontation at the palace. Impeccable "Cazador doesn't realize Astarion didn't just come back to Baldur's Gate, he came back loved" vibe, as Cazador tries to break Astarion by taking away the gifts the tadpole gang gave him along the way.

What is Affection but the Absence of Cruelty by Aztec24

One of my favorite tropes is "Astarion tortures himself by obsessively imagining how awful these perfectly nice people will be to him," and this very much delivers. Featuring a rare two-Tavs-plus-Astarion throuple!

The Mimic by ForsakenFlyingCircus

This is really hurt-no-comfort, but I'm including it because it's a good super sad take on dehumanization with an awful Tav confirming all the worst things Astarion thinks about himself and the world, touching on the whole problem of sentient monsters in D&D.

Peel the scars from off my back by WitchyBee

A Spawn Family fic in the aftermath of Astarion getting Cazador's contract on his back - lots of antagonistic but grudgingly caring sibling interaction and Astarion being satisfyingly ambivalent about it all.

Complete Multi-Chapter Fic:

Just A Taste by NightmareGiraffe

The tadpole gang gets imprisoned at Moonrise Towers and Astarion accepts an offer from Araj Oblodra in exchange for their freedom. A very dark yet totally in-character elaboration on the canon blood merchant encounter, plus a cool dragonborn Tav.

The Accountant’s Guide to Taking Down an Evil Vampire Lord (and maybe bagging Astarion while you are at it) by Cinnamontails

A charming f!OC-who-isn't-Tav/Astarion longfic that combines hurt/comfort with het romance novel conventions, which I feel like is rarely pulled off.

And I know there's a ton I missed here -- god this fandom is big.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #fic recs #hurt/comfort

[graveyardcuddles]

Some rambling personal thoughts on Astarion's endings since I can't sleep.

I find myself really loving Astarion's spawn endings and ALL of their variations even more the more I think about them (the exception ofc being the cursed af endings where you don't help him AT ALL and he either gets turned into a zombie or is still being hunted by cazador even after the game, but I'm obviously not talking about those).

I think I, like many others who grew very attached to his character, were left feeling very torn over his initial spawn ending before the added epilogue. Because Astarion being free from cazador and learning to truly relish in that freedom AND use it towards more positive ends is the entire point of his spawn endings. But we don't really get the chance to see that fully paid off in the narrative. One could argue that we do see the very beginnings of it with the graveyard scene and the morning after scene and how he makes several comments about never being a slave again after he kills cazador. But then we get a rather painful reminder of the fact that he's still been forced to give up something he's come to love and cherish so much over the course of your journey. And then we just kinda end on that note.

I definitely didn't regret keeping Astarion a spawn, even after that. But I will admit there was a part of me that still really wanted to see more for him. And that's why I really do adore the epilogue. I know people have their issues with it and say it's unrealistic for Astarion to be so "healed" after only 6 months but I disagree with this take because we're literally only seeing a glimpse of him on one really good, happy night, it's not necessarily a reflection of how he usually is. He could very well still be having days where he struggles, and he almost certainly does. But comparing his previous 200 years to his possible (good) spawn endings, it's not really surprising that he's thriving. Same with the "counterweight" comment. He's not saying the 6 months you've been together completely negates and erases the 200 years of torture. He's saying his freedom and your love have been such a HUGE contrast to what he's had to live through for so long that they feel like a counterweight to the horrors.

I think about how far he has to come for him to actually get to those endings. His bounty hunter/adventurer ending? Amazing! He's relishing in violence and living his best rouge life. Leading the spawn in the Underdark? Speaks so much to his character development that he actually cares enough about them to even attempt such a massive undertaking. Lots of potential for healing of course but also: Holy shit the potential for unhinged shenanigans as well. Going to the hells with Karlach? Incredible! He's not just getting to enjoy tearing up cambions all day he's devoted to Karlach and helping her it's literally so beautiful.

Something else I really adore about his spawn ending vs. his ascended ending is that he burns down cazador's palace in his spawn ending. Burns it to the ground and destroys it for good. Whereas ascended Astarion literally moves into the palace and like...sure you can headcanon that maybe he eventually has a new, even grander palace built. But the mental image of Astarion wandering those halls is just so fucking sad to think about. He could go anywhere and do anything but he's still physically occupying the space that hosted so many horrors and tortures for him. And it to me that just screams that he's still there mentally.

I'll always defend people who like the ascended ending because I understand the appeal of it. As a dark romance enjoyer, I very much understand the appeal of the dark consort ending. And I don't even think this is the "worst" ending for Astarion because there's at least still potential for him (as opposed to the endings where he dies or is still being hunted, which ARE the worst endings for him). But it does feel like a step backward for him. And I think the people who go "Well this is just NATURAL character progression for him he's selfish af of course he would want this" Think too little of him or at least underestimate his capacity to care for others.

Because he very obviously DOES care. And allowing him to get to a place where he can foster that sense of compassion for others is truly so beautiful and so profound to see. I'm someone who is easily moved by fiction already but Astarion's story really touches my heart just because of how rewarding it is to see how far he comes in those endings.

#this is all just my personal opinions not trying to start another spawn vs ascended debate PLS #bg3 #astarion

[alijuan]

Astarion killed Cazador, burned down his palace in a final rejection of his toxic lifestyle, and rose from the ashes like a phoenix. Astarion lost the sun, but still has a chance to get it back.

Durge got a new life but lost all the people of his past. Orin as a sacrifice on the altar of freedom. Gortash as the last link to his former life. He's a clean slate, but at what cost. And it’s irreversible.

Both have destroyed something of the past to build a future. In Astarion’s case, it feels inspiring. In Durge’s case, it's a victory with a hint of bitterness.

#bloodurge #durgestarion #astarion x durge #astarion #the dark urge #durge #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 13: The Fallacy of Power

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6.5k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

TW: Astarion's past abuse under Cazador is mentioned/visited in this chapter.

She has been cold and withdrawn since their discussion when he refused to say what she wanted to hear. She avoids him if possible and ignores him unless he directly speaks to her. When she walks around the manor, she is like a phantom gliding, lifeless and vacant, the ghost of a ship long ago wrecked at sea that still wanders the waters wayward with no purpose. So far, he’s left her alone in her misery. Should he be trying to cheer her up? His heart tells him he should, but his head tells him it’s unbecoming of the Vampire Ascendant to postulate himself in such a way. He should not have to seek her attention. She should give it to him willingly. If she wishes to wallow in her desolation, so be it.

He’s missed her in their bed, against his skin, and on his lips. Her silence is as deep as demise and simultaneously deafening. He misses her laughter, happy giggles, and his name on her tongue in her sweet, musical voice. Hells, he would even take a scolding from her right now as long as she’s speaking and more expressive than this wall of dysphoria. He will take anything but this pale apparition of surrender and hopelessness. He’s tried to goad her into arguments if only to get a rise from her, but she does as he requests without question, challenge, or emotion.

She wants a real relationship, but what does that mean to him? What kind of relationship is he capable of giving her? That presence in his head bids him to control, claim, and make her belong to him with or without her consent. It encourages him to give the command to make it so. The Vampire Ascendant does not request love - he simply fucking takes it because he is entitled to it. He is entitled to have anything and everything he wants, including her.

No.

There his thoughts go again, getting away from him, towing him down like quicksand. He must be careful not to let himself be cast down that ungodly rabbit hole. He may not get the chance to surface. Astarion’s hands rack over his face and through his hair. He needs the physical sensation that often interrupts the slow descent into madness.

Astarion. He reminds himself. I am Astarion.

She does not acknowledge his presence when he enters the library. Her sullen eyes are moored to the book lying in her lap, and she flips the pages idly. She did not even bother to light any of the candles, scones or oil lamps. She sits in the shadows like a lone lily, white and fair, against a pond reflecting dusk.

He clears his throat to get her attention, “I need you to attend my business meeting with me today. It may put you in a position where you are… uncomfortable, but I will be there to protect and stop you if needed.”

She closes the book, staring straight vacantly, not bothering to look at him. Her voice is as whisper quiet as a catatonic echo, “You’re taking me to a business meeting?”

“Yes,” he replies softly, making his voice as warm as a summer day as if he could warm her with it. “I need my consort by my side.”

“I am not your consort, Astarion,” she shakes her head with a despondent expression. She is so cold it makes him shiver. He’s used to flames veritably leaping off her tongue when she speaks. This... He has never witnessed this in her, but he recognizes it. This is how he was when he all but gave up after a few lashings, “I will go with you if you need me, but I am not your consort.”

Please, don’t give up on me... just yet.

“If you do not like the word consort, that is fine,” he crouches and takes her hand. It remains limp, and she still does not look at him. Astarion gently cradles her cheek and walks her eyes to him. They seem to look through him instead of at him, and his heart seizes in his chest. “Tell me what you would prefer. Partner? Girlfriend? Soulmate? Bride? Hells, wife? Just tell me what you want me to say. Please.”

The words scour his tongue like steel wool. Can his spawn truly be his partner, girlfriend or… Good Gods, he said wife, didn’t he? Where in the Hells did that come from, and why does the notion fill him with genuine joy? Will he be able to see her as an equal? He is the Vampire Ascendant… No one is his equal, and no one could ever be. But he is also Astarion. Which him does he want to be? Does he even have a choice?

He stares at her, trying to discern how he views her. When he looks at her, does he see an equal? Or does he see his spawn, his puppet, his favourite little toy to play with? He views both versions in parallel spaces of his mind. He cannot ascertain which one is him and which is the Vampire Ascendant.

“Consort. Partner. Girlfriend. Soulmate. Bride. Wife,” she repeats hollowly as if she’s saying the words without thinking about them, just a recording being played back, “None of them because we are none of those.”

“Perhaps not yet,” he retorts with a plea clinging to his voice. “You said you want something real, and I agreed to try and give you just that. Let me try.”

“Are you capable of love,” she whispers, eyes drifting down to the floor.

“I… don’t know,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re view of what love is may differ from mine, but perhaps we can meet in the middle?”

“When do we leave?” She asks dryly and slips her hand out of his, “And what do I wear?”

“I had something made for you,” he smirks. “It’s in your room. Wear it or don’t. The choice is yours.”

“You’re giving me a choice?”

"Darling," he drawls in an unemotional infection, “I admittedly do not know much about relationships, but I don’t think forcing you to wear something would be very… nice. You are free to dress yourself in whatever you wish.”

“What if I decide I wish to wear a burlap sack?”

“Well…” he cringes. Gods. He would not put it past her doing just that to prove a point. Would he let her do that? Could he? His skin crawls just thinking about it. “You would look very foolish, but if anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”

Hells below, he hopes she does not wear a sack.

Truthfully, he does want to control what she wears, where she goes, and even how she does her hair and makeup, but he does not understand why he is so drawn to it. He does not recall feeling the need to be so controlling when he was a spawn. He must quell those desires and untoward thoughts if he has any hope of showing her that he can be what she wants and needs.

Because he needs her…

He’s almost afraid to look when she walks down the hall, scared she’s going to see if he truly means what he said, but he’s elated to see she decided to wear the ensemble he had fashioned. An extravagant, high-necked navy-blue robe with delicate golden lace sleeves and a bodice embellished with dragon wings with gleaming rose-gold scales to match hers.

His coat is very close, except it is raven black, inlaid with deep purple and golden embroidered dragons revolving around his arms. His chest is embellished with dragon wings expanding across the breast.

“Dragons?” Her hand glides down the breast of his coat, “I thought you were fonder of bats.”

“It seems I have become rather smitten with dragons as of late,” he winks. He feigns puzzlement, bringing his finger to his lips, “I wonder why.”

She gives him some semblance of a smile. It’s the first time he’s seen any emotion in days. It fades quickly, and her face is once again a smooth plane of vacancy.

“What do you mean I will be uncomfortable?” She mutters, eyes fixed straight ahead as if looking at him pains her like staring directly at the sun. “You promised you would not put me in a situation I cannot handle.”

“And I won’t. You have my word.” He bows slightly, “There will be people around. If you need to leave, you say the word, and we will go. You know I could compel you not to feel that hunger…”

She scowls at him and hisses, “Do it, and I will walk out that door. I will not return.”

Well, even anger is better than emptiness.

“It is just an offer,” he nods curtly with his hands up. “I would not do it without your expressed permission. Shall we go?”

You follow Astarion, twisting down alleys and paths in the Lower City. You refuse to hold his hand and are attempting to use pure willpower to ignore all the tasty citizens scurrying about. They smell good, and it’s making your mouth water. No matter how much you eat, bloodlust is insatiable, unquenchable and never fully slumbers. There’s always this stitch in your side and a dryness to your throat that will not ebb. When you smell blood, you are immediately starved, and your stomach pinches in your belly. It could easily send you into hysterics. Astarion always keeps a close eye, sticking by your side and matching your pace instead of his usual elongated strides.

You recognize the alley with the guards and the secret door, “The guild?”

“The very one,” he nods with a cunning smirk.

“Lord Ancunin,” the guard bows low and stiff. “I see you have brought a guest.”

“Lady Ancunin,” Astarion drawls, confident and poised. If your heart was beating, it would surely have skipped beats and possibly stopped. “She is to be treated with the same respect as I. You are to follow her orders as you would follow mine. Is that clear?”

“So you command, so shall it be,” the guard bows low before you. “Lady Ancunin.”

You stare detached past the guard, barely noticing the reverent display before you. A welcome numbness has incorporated itself into your psyche. You felt so much, and now you feel nothing. You’re not sure which is worse.

“Come,” Astarion gestures to the stairs.

The Guildhall has been rebuilt with more extravagance. The walkways are now properly constructed and far less shabby looking with richly coloured wood. It is organized, not the haphazard mess you remember. There are so many hearts beating the chant of life. Their blood smells like Elysian fields teeming with ichor blossoms. Pressing your eyes shut, you try to tune out the thump, thump, thump assaulting your ears. You clutch Astarion’s hand and squeeze as hard as you can.

Yes, this will be a challenge.

Astarion senses your apprehension and squeezes your hand reassuringly, “We can leave whenever you want. I do not have to be here long.”

“You operate the Guild now?”

“Yes and no,” he grins, devilish and handsome enough to make you melt despite your discomfort. “Nine Fingers still handles the mundane day-to-day. You know I have never been a details person.”

“How did this come about?”

“Simple,” he smiles wolfish and sly. His eyes glint mischievously. “If you know the right people to coerce, anything can be taken. Grease a few palms here, blackmail some merchants there. You know how it is.”

“Coerce or kill?”

“Well, negotiations don’t always go as planned,” he chuckles with a cavalier shrug. “But I do not go around killing everyone, just those who need killing anyway. Gods. What do you think of me? I’ve been manipulating people for 200 years. This was hardly a challenge.”

“Ah, Lord Ancunin,” Nine Fingers strides up with a tight look as if she’s working hard not to frown. “How nice of you to bless us with your presence. I do not believe we have a meeting scheduled for today.”

“I’m here to make sure you’re running my,” Astarion accentuates the word with a low, threatening growl, “Guild befittingly. I received reports of your idiot pickpockets getting caught by the authorities and inconsistent yields. Do I need to appoint someone more suitable for such a role?”

“Lord Ancunin,” Nine Fingers snickers, and you wonder how he hasn’t killed this one yet. She was always snarky. “The pickpockets have been dealt with. They did not even make it to prison. As for the yields, I’m looking into it. You will not find anyone more proficient at running your guild than I.”

Astarion and Nine Fingers continue to talk business. Boring. You walk away, down the stairs and watch the people flitting about, ledgers in hand, counting shipments of what looks like silk from Cormyr and imported liquor. Others with clearly stolen pieces of art and other antiquities. The bottom of that cesspool pit has been cleaned up, and it appears new tunnels have been put in place, with more still being constructed.

You catch bits and pieces of a conversation between a short, rotund man in a burgundy coat speaking about a shipment being lost or damaged. Leaning on a railing, you watch the conversation play out with a shrewd eye for a while before you make your way over there. The closer you get to people, the harder it is to control yourself, but you’re getting better.

You sit close to the conversation so you can listen and watch. Nine Fingers sits beside you, “I remember you. Jaheria’s friend, right?” she gives you a scrutinizing once over and then her eyes finally settle on yours. “I remember you being much more… alive the last time you were here. The lords doing, I presume.”

“I wanted it,” you growl through your clenched jaw. “There is nothing further to discuss on it.”

“I’ve seen his little compulsion trick,” she says sourly. “It’s not a stretch to believe-“

You cut her off by grabbing her by the neck and pushing her up against a support beam. The rhythmical pulsing of her vein is felt on the pads of your fingers. Good Gods, you are tempted to take a nibble. Just a little sip...

No. You throw her away from you before you lose your precarious control.

“Watch your tongue,” you snarl, baring your teeth. “I am just as deadly as the lord.”

“Deadlier even.” Astarion chuckles, leaning close to your ear, “Are you okay?”

“I’m managing…” you whisper. Raising your voice, you point to the man, “Who is that?”

“A local merchant. He caters to the aristocracy.” Astarion arches a brow, “Why?”

“You were talking about inconsistent yields,” you watch the man circumspective, who now stares at you wide-eyed. “I think you will find he is the reason for some or all of your inconsistencies.” You sneer at the little fleshy liar, “Won’t we?"

“No,” Nine Fingers interjects. “That can’t be. He’s been working with the Guild for many years and is well-known and respected by the patriars. He’s an invaluable asset.”

“Silence!” Astarion orders brusquely, making her flinch. “Your superiors are having a discussion.” Astarion’s fingers come to his chin. “Go on, darling. How do you know?”

“His speech pattern is all over the place. He does not make direct eye contact. He’s fidgeting nervously. I can hear his heartbeat kick up from here every time he has to alter his story, and he’s sweating like a pig,” you smirk. You are good at this, and it feels natural. You give the man a grin as you virtually hear his heart sink, “You are a terrible liar. I think you’ve picked the wrong business.”

“Well,” Astarion cocks his head while watching the man as sweat rains down his face, “Let’s find out, shall we?” He points at the rotund traitor, “You. Come here.”

“Y-yes, Lord Ancunin.”

Astarion hauls the man into the air by his coat with an eerily cordial smile, “You’ve been stealing from me. Come clean now, and I will consider allowing you to keep your pathetic life.”

You expected to hear the anger in Astarion’s voice, but it’s matter-of-fact and impassive.

“My lord,” the man’s eyes widen, and his feet kick uselessly in the air. “I would never dream of it. Honest!”

Astarion’s eyes glow that wicked crimson of compulsion, and he brings the man close to his face, “You will tell me the truth. How long have you been stealing?”

The man’s eyes become glossy as the red tendrils of compulsion twist around him and into his mind. His body becomes limp. “I will tell the truth.” He repeats hollowly. “I have been skimming off the top for years. I misconstrue reported earnings and inventory, record shipments as lost or damaged and keep them for myself.”

The man continues spewing his transgressions, and you can see the rage start building in Astarion.

“That wasn’t so hard. Was it?” Astarion smiles manically. His eyes start to flash as he draws his dagger.

You put your hand on his shoulder, “Astarion…” You soothe and request the connection with his mind. You do not want to undermine him, but you need him to stay in control. He opens it, and you wince at the pain that splits through your head. It feels as if your skull has been cracked open. You push through it and roll your thoughts over the bridge, “His death will not gain you anything, Astarion. Hold onto yourself.”

His muscles strain under your fingers, and sweat starts to sheen his skin, but he answers in your thoughts, “His death would serve as a reminder to these insolent fucks that no one betrays the Vampire Ascendant and lives.”

“Astarion, please.”

“I am the Vampire Ascendant!” He bellows in your head so hard you wonder if your ears are bleeding, leaking your brain matter.

“Is that all you are? Is that your entire identity?”

He growls viciously aloud, snarling and turning his head to look at you with violence humming in his flickering eyes. With a pained grunt, Astarion throws the man on the ground and hisses, “Leave. If I ever see you in my city again, I will kill you and your family.”

Astarion whirls, taking your chin roughly in his fingers, bringing his mouth to yours, savage and hungry, with enough force to split and bruise your lips. You can hear that tittering in his head, straining against his control, trying to claim him. It bites like a serrated blade at your mind, and Astarion tries to close the connection to save you from that pain, but you rue against it.

“Don’t,” you think. “I can be your light. I can help you, but you have to let me.”

His fingers curl into your hair, and his tongue laps at the blood smeared across your lips, sucking on the cut gently. Your fingers caress the back of his neck. You’re not exactly sure how you do it, but as if on instinct, you flood Astarion with every iota of your love, light and fire into his psyche, upending the darkness and silencing his demons.

His body relaxes. His fingers no longer grip aggressively but embrace, and he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on yours as he pants. As your senses return to you, so does the angelic chorus of beating hearts and the enticing smell of blood, and you clench your jaw as your stomach does cartwheels in your abdomen. Your fingernails incise your palm.

“I’ve got you, my treasure.” Astarion interlocks his fingers with yours to stop you. “Hold onto me.”

Astarion turns to Nine Fingers. She’s staring at you with a speculatively arched brow, “We will be taking our leave now. I expect to see improved totals on your subsequent report, or we will have a very unpleasant discussion, and if any more pickpockets get caught, you will not be calling yourself Nine Fingers any longer. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Lord Ancunin,” she nods curtly with a twisted mouth and narrowed eyes. “Do bring your spawn along more often. She is incredibly useful, it seems.”

Astarion roars, slamming Nine Fingers against a wooden column, splitting it. He bellows when he speaks, making sure everyone can hear him, “No one is to call her “spawn.” If I hear anyone utter that word in reference to her, I will hang them from the rafters by their intestines while they still draw breath.” Astarion looks around with a frightening scowl, verifying everyone is paying attention, “She is my right hand, and you will treat her with due respect. Any orders from her should be treated as if they are coming from me directly.”

“Astarion,” you whimper, scratching lacerations into the top of your hand to keep yourself grounded. “I need to go.”

He releases Nine Fingers, spins and grabs your hand. He keeps a tight hold on you until you’re back in the alley. He orders the guards to stand further away. You sprint to the dead end and grip a fence as hard as you can, taking in large gasps of air to try and quiet the bloodlust ravaging your mind, bullying you into mania. Astarion’s hands come to the rail on either side of you, caging you in with his chest pressed against your back.

“You did well in there,” he purrs. “Controlling the bloodlust.”

“You could have warned me that I would want to eat everyone with a beating heart,” you groan, leaning into him.

“I suppose I could have been a tad more forthcoming,” he chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “To be fair, I was a young spawn centuries ago. It’s not exactly fresh in my mind.”

“How did you learn to control it?” you sigh. You’re falling into him again, slipping into that blissful completeness that melts that icy numbness keeping you sane.

There’s a quiver of torment that dithers across the harmony. “Cazador…” he starts, spoken with a desolate undertone. He folds his arms around you, holding you close, and he trembles, “Cazador would starve me and then have people stand in the kennels while I was chained or caged. He would cut them, small at first, but gradually worse. They would get progressively closer. If I made a move or lost control in any way, I would be punished. Severely.” He pauses with a sigh, and his brows turn down at the sides. “I lost control a lot.”

By the Gods. You would not have been able to understand how torturous that would be without being a vampire yourself. Bloodlust hurts, a physical pain that progressively gets steadily worse until you are nothing but a writhing, rabid animal with no semblance of sentience.

“Astarion…” you turn to him, wrapping your arms around him. “That’s… Gods, there are no words. I’m so sorry.”

“Come,” he clears his throat, uncomfortable with the emotion as if he does not believe he deserves your empathy. “Let’s go home.”

“Thank you for telling me.” You murmur, hoping you’re not overstepping, “About… him. I know you don’t like to talk about it.”

“Partners talk about this type of stuff openly, yes?”

“I…” you balk at the question. It seems so out of character for him. You expected him to ignore you or scold you for bringing it up further. “I suppose they do, but-“

“Yes,” he cuts you off. “I know what we aren’t. You keep reminding me every chance you get. You requested real and real you shall have. I never wanted you to see that side of me.” Astarion sighs and looks at the setting sun reverently, his face softening, a glimpse of his former self, “Cazador is no longer an off-limits topic for you.”

What?

Can you trust him not to fly into a blind rage when you speak of his former self, the pathetic spawn he is so genuinely disgusted with? Perhaps this is not the time to test the limits of this newfound freedom.

“Lady Ancunin?” You quirk a brow at him. “That’s not my name.”

“Not as of yet, it’s not,” his arm wraps around your waist, and a smile flashes over his face like wintry sunshine. He whispers, “You bear my name beautifully, my love.”

Your eyelashes flutter open, and you’re shocked to be in the familiar halls of the Crimson Palace, but it does not appear as you remember it. Everything is washed in a drab sepia tone, and you blink, trying to clear your vision. The walls and floors appear to wave as if they are an illusion. Servants blink in and out of existence as they flit around. You try to walk in the way of them, waving your arms to get their attention, but they pay you no heed, blinking out and reappearing behind you.

A scream you would recognize anywhere reverberates through the ghostly halls, shrill and bone-chilling.

Astarion…

You sprint toward the sound, descending the dark staircase two or three steps at a time that appears to end in a black well of nothingness. You’re trying to grip the weave and call on your magic, but when you reach for it, you find nothing but a yawning void where it should be. Staring at your palm, you shake it, confused, as you burst into the hall leading to the spawn quarters. Another cry echoes. You forget about your lack of magic as horror grips your heart, and you sprint around the corner and halt dead in your tracks.

Astarion stands in the hallway. He’s hunched over with hands pressed against the doorframe as he stares distantly into the room before him - the kennels. He is the only thing in undulled, vivid colour. It’s a stark contrast to the atmosphere of mousy undertones.

“Astarion?”

He jolts, whirling and staring at you with a disoriented tangle of sorrow and perplexity. His jaw tightens, and his eyes shift quickly from side to side, “No,” he mutters, shaking his head, “No, this isn’t right. You would not have been here.”

“What’s going on?” You sputter, voice breaking. “I don’t understand.”

Another strident shriek. You are stirred into action, dashing down the hall at full speed. Astarion’s eyes widen as he gauges your target, and he takes long steps to cut you off. His arm wraps around your waist, hauling you backward from the open doorway.

“No, darling,” he coos, trying to swath his voice in velvet. “You don’t want to go in there. Please, trust me on this.”

“What?” You’re panicked, clawing at him, trying to push his arms away. “I can’t just stand here! Let me go!”

“You can’t help him… Me. You can’t help me.” Astarion rasps. His eyes are sad, but he tries to smile. “This is long over and done. It’s a memory - my memory.”

Anguished wailing reverberates, making the walls appear to shudder. You can’t take it, you can’t fucking take it, and you push out of Astarion’s arms and charge into the kennels.

The scene that greets you makes tears instantly flow down your cheeks, and you can’t help but dry heave as your stomach shoots into your throat.

“That’s right, my boy.” Cazador snickers, compulsion glowing in his eyes, tendrils stirring the air. “Sing those sweet, sweet cries for me.”

You try to grab Cazador, screaming in anguish, but your hand swishes straight through the apparition. Arms come around your waist, hauling you up and out of the room while you reach and clamber, trying to do something. Anything.

Astarion sets you down, folding his arms around you, “Shhh, little love,” he purrs. “It will be alright.”

“Astarion,” you sob, knees quaking. Astarion braces you against himself, “What in the Hells is happening?”

“I’m not entirely sure. We are tranced, in the manor, I think. This... it already happened long ago. So long, I cannot even recall the colours anymore.”

His thumb clears the rivulets of tears storming down your cheeks so sweetly, like the whisper of a fairy dream. His eyes, so intensely crimson, are doting, inviting you to get lost in them.

Another soul-crushing outcry discharges from the room, and you can’t help but scream with him. Astarion firmly but gently places his hands over your ears, trying to provide you amnesty from the howling cries.

You lean into him and beg, tugging on his clothes, “Make it stop, Astarion. Good Gods. Make it stop. Please. I can’t… I can’t… Wake us up.”

“I’m trying,” he breathes faintly, pressing harder on your ears as another jarring yowl rolls over you, and you start slipping to the floor in a puddle of sorrow.

Everything dissolves around you, turning black and silent, and you’re pitched into a bottomless void that makes your stomach lurch.

You thrash in your bed, convulsing so violently that you throw yourself to your hands and knees on the floor with a discordant shriek. Your bedsheets and clothes are soddened with sweat, the delicate fabric clinging to your body, and you tremble so turbulently that you can barely push yourself to your feet.

You blink rapidly, trying to see through the distortion caused by unshed tears. Your chest heaves in quick, rapid breaths as you sprint into the hallway. Astarion is already running toward you, and you slam into his arms as your legs give way.

“It’s okay,” he comforts you with a soft, deep baritone, a salve to your pain. “Everything is alright.”

Your mind sees that gruesome vision, a ghostly layer veiling the man before you. Your stomach twists and knots. Saliva floods your mouth. Pushing out of his hold, you scramble away as far as you can, and your liquid dinner is a sanguine spill spreading across the floor. Astarion holds your hair back and rubs your back as you continue to dry heave between your rapid breaths.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out between sobs.

“It is I who should be sorry,” he sits on the chaise, beckoning you into his arms. You curl up in his lap once the wave of nausea eases, desperate to be close to him. Astarion strokes your arm, “I left the connection open. I did not know you could get transported into my dreams. I will not make that mistake again.”

You look up, cupping his cheek in your palm and searching his eyes. That beautiful face is calm and carpeted with earnest affection but otherwise unfazed while he sweeps strands of your hair behind your ear, “Are you okay?”

“My sweet, sweet girl,” he kisses your palm. “I have relived many of my memories hundreds of times over. There are only a few that truly disturb me anymore. Thank you for asking, but I am fine.”

“Okay...” you breathe deeply, unsure if your mind can accept how undaunted he is. The last remnants of your weeping shudder through your body, “I’ll clean that up.”

Pushing yourself away from him is a monumental task. He is warm like sunshine and comforting like darkness. You hate him a little for being so… him.

“Will you come to bed?” Astarion looks at you longingly. “ Our bed, I mean.”

“No.”

“When are you going to stop punishing me?” He laments, following you while you grab a rag and bucket of soapy water from the rarely used kitchen.

“I’m not punishing you for anything, Astarion.”

“Bullshit.” He exclaims sourly. “Do not think me blind. You’ve been ignoring and avoiding me purposefully. I- I miss you.” Astarion’s arms fall limp at this side, “Tell me how to make it right.”

You hand Astarion a cup, “Break this.”

His brows pinch as he turns the cup over and over. He looks at you, confused, but throws it to the floor, shattering it. “What was the point of that?”

“Now, fix it.”

“I have many mind-blowing abilities,” he stares at the shattered pieces strewn across the floor, brows pinched. “Fixing broken goblets is not one of them.”

“Because not everything can be fixed."

You start wiping up your sick in the tense muteness between you and Astarion. He sits on the chaise, just watching with a grief-stricken expression that makes you want to weep.

“I can run up walls, walk upside down on ceilings, turn into a bat and mist, among other things. All this power…” A low laugh rumbles in his chest, crestfallen and mournful. “All this fucking power,” he clenches his fists, craning his head to look up at the ceiling, “and I still cannot have the one thing in the world I want most.” He sighs, shaking his head. Astarion cocks his head to look at you and smiles bleakly, “Sleep tight, my love.”

Astarion disappears into his room, and you bite your tongue to stifle your crying. After you’ve finished cleaning up and are back in your bed, you toss restlessly. How long will this harrowing purgatory go on? You take deep breaths, but it does not even begin to fill the void in your chest. You are fragmented without him in your head or against your skin. As if you’re soul has deformed, warped and splintered into a mangled husk.

This is why you’ve been avoiding Astarion. His words tear your heart open, dissect it, and then you must stitch yourself up anew. How many times can your chest be torn open and your heart ripped to pieces before the scarps are too small to glue back together?

I don’t care.

I don’t care.

I don’t care.

Who the fuck am I kidding?

In the hall, you jump at the sight of Astarion halfway up the long corridor. He halts, and you stare at each other in reticence. His hair is a disarrayed jumble of soft silver curls. The moonlight streaming in from the windows brilliantly sets the ivory skin of his bared chest aglow. His shoulders are slumped in a disconsolate stature you’re not used to seeing on him. The iron countenance and steely confidence he oozes are absent.

“Love,” he whispers wearily. “Lay with me tonight.” Astarion gestures toward himself, splaying his hand on his bare chest. Desperation clings to his voice, “Be with me. We can workshop the details as we go.”

“Tell me you love me,” you say, moon-eyed, lips quivering.

“I-I,” he pauses. Anticipation clenches your heart in your chest. Please, you think, please just fucking say it so we can stop playing this game. You think he just might until he grimaces. “I can’t.”

“No. Of course, you can’t,” you mewl. You wrap yourself in your comfortable cloak of numbness to preserve your sanity, “Because how could you love a lowly spawn like my good self?”

He does not answer, and that is answer enough.

You’re crouched low in a dark alley, skulking around in the shadows in the Lower City. Astarion went out to deal with some business you were not invited to, so you’ve taken the chance to survey the tavern you last saw that purple-haired bitch at - Elowyn. Your intuition tells you she has something to do with the Gur attacks, regardless of Astarion’s assurances that she’s harmless. The earth-shatteringly handsome man can be blinded by his overconfidence at times.

You’re not sure what Astarion will do if he gets home and you’re nowhere to be found, but you left him a note saying you went for a walk. He probably won’t tear the city apart looking for you. You’re not a caged bird. You can come and go as you please.

... Right?

You’re about to give up for the night when you see her. She glances out the tavern doors, askant, surveying her surroundings before pulling up her hood and slinking down the street. Elowyn takes an oddly winding route, up and down dark alleys and paths, often doubling back. She strolls confidently but takes acute notice of her surroundings. She is practiced and methodical in the way she observes. You should have eaten her when she cornered you with her singsong voice and dainty little face, spewing filth and lies. Maybe you should eat her now…

No, no. You can eat her after you figure out what she’s up to. You smile sadistically at the promise to yourself, licking your lips. You will eat her when you’ve ascertained how she means to harm your master.

Gods. Where did that thought come from?

Elowyn turns abruptly down a side street. Casting Misty Step, you appear on a roof, crouch at the edge and watch her intently. She walks up and down the pathway, looking in all directions except up, much to your delight.

Hardly anyone looks up.

She leans down and opens the entrance to the sewers, climbing down and replacing the cover. The sewers… You fucking hate the sewers. It’s the last place you want to follow her, but nothing can deter you.

This place is a maze of tunnels and run-offs. It’s an arduous task to track her with any degree of certainty. The rayless, glum passageways look similar, but you glimpse her here and there. Her course is consistent with the streets above as she makes arbitrary turns left and right, retracing her steps before continuing. It makes you question if she spotted you and is just taking you on a wild goose chase for shits and giggles, but it’s doubtful. There is purpose in Elowyn’s steps, even if you’re not quite able to understand it yet.

Elowyn steps onto the wooden platform, pulls the lever, and floats up the nauseating river of excrement and contamination. You recognize the area she is going to by smell alone. She’s heading into the lowest floors of the ruined temple under the Crimson Palace. You frown. You’ve been all through those lower, ravaged corridors.

You used to try and hide from Astarion down there, but he always found you. You shudder at the memories of playing some sick, twisted version of hide and seek, where the consequences were more dire than being tagged “it.”

What could be down there that’s of any interest to her? Does Astarion know? Is that where he set the Drow up to do her assessments? Unlikely. He would not want Araj that close to home.

There’s a barely perceptible shift in the atmosphere. The chilled air starts to warm unnaturally, embers floating around. Your skin prickles as the hair on the back of your neck and arms rises. You smell the smoky stench and pollution of sulphur crawling through the air. It stings your nostrils, twisting in the back of your nose and down your throat, choking you. A liquid black maw opens in the stone before your feet, and the inky, viscid silhouette emerges from the gaping orifice, taking shape and wings stretching with a boastful flare.

You jump backward, filling yourself with the Weave, heating your palms and skin with spells dancing on your fingertips and primed on your tongue.

“Darling,” a toothy grin greets you. “Now, now, Sorceress. Put those spells of yours to rest. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“Mizora.”  

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, I hope you enjoy this, darlings!

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

It's never a good sign when Mizora shows up. We are getting into the thick of it now :)

#ascended astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion smut #fangs and fractured hearts

[lunastrophe]

BG Lore 🌙 Possible Cure For Astarion

When I watch the scene of Cazador's death, I cannot help but wonder if after all this stabbing, there is something left of this bastard's heart. I really, really hope there is.

Because according to Baldur's Gate 2 lore, the vampire master's heart is a crucial component in the ritual that can un-vampire a vampire spawn.

It is really a shame that this piece of lore is never mentioned in Baldur's Gate 3. Especially since Jaheira - who was one of the protagonist's companions in BG2 - should totally remember this ritual and should be able to provide Tav and Astarion with all the necessary details...!

*sigh* At least I can have this headcanon:

🌙 The Vampiricus Omnibus - it is one of the ancient tomes that in Baldur's Gate 2, can be found in the vampire's lair. It contains information about something called "Plague of Teeth".

Apparently a long time ago, in the area of Umar Hills in Amn, there was a great battle against "restless dead" - vampires. The vampires were defeated, but at a great cost: many people who fought against them were turned into vampire spawns:

"Mornat de'pas Golvana Fathorn: Battles when came the dead: There came we, the army of light, armed with faith and conviction, and we did march unto the tombs of the restless dead during hours of day. With wooden edge, we struck down master and slave, though many paid for each thrust with their lives. In the fallen, there was the danger of a scourge anew, and many of the newly infected seemed doomed to walk again with dire purpose."

🌙 The people who survived the battle were desperate to save and un-vampire their comrades. They collected hearts of vampires who had turned them, and they brought them to the temple of Amaunator - ancient deity of sun, order, law and time - that happened to be located near the Umar Hills area:

"Aegato Davon: The plea: 'No more,' cried we! No more would we lose to the plague. These new fallen could not be abandoned. We had fought for our lives and theirs, and they would not be taken. To the Temple we went, to the god of Sun and Light. Amaunator would save them. Amaunator, whose touch turns shadows to fire. In the arms of the Sun god were the infected placed, and the hearts of their dark masters were laid there with them. Blood did burn, and the dead returned, but not as undead or unliving, but alive and freed from taint. Many did walk the light side home, when last the plague did fall."

🌙 The Ritual In BG2 - at some point in BG2, the protagonist's love interest can end up kidnapped by a vampire, turned into a vampire spawn and killed during one the main battles. However, the protagonist can figure out how to resurrect (and un-vampire) their lover, using the ritual from The Vampiricus Omnibus.

In BG2, the temple of Amaunator is ruined and Amaunator's power is fading - but still, it is enough to successfully un-vampire one person.

In time of BG3, Amaunator is back as a greater deity and his cult is fully restored - as is his temple, most likely - so the ritual could still work!

🌙 The procedure would be simple:

kill the vampire master and obtain his heart,

take the heart and the vampire spawn to the temple of Amaunator near Umar Hills in Amn,

place the vampire spawn in the arms of holy statue of Amaunator, along with the heart of vampire master who turned them.

And who knows... Since all the spawns in the Cazador Palace were created by the same vampire master, maybe the ritual could work not only for Astarion - but by extension, for every one of them?

So... I really hope that Astarion did not make too many holes in Cazador's heart... Just in case 🥺

#bg3 #bg2 lore #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion headcanons #pale elf

[podcastenthusiast]

Spawn Astarion burning down Cazador's palace and starting something new, either by building a home in the Underdark with the others or becoming a heroic adventurer, VS ascended Astarion remaining in the palace and literally just starting the whole miserable cycle all over again, never moving on...

#we talk about how tragic his ascension is for tav but fuck man astarion deserves better too #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion

[hexed-padlock]

Hi. As requested by a few people, here’s a fic of my AU/Headcanon where Tav killed Strahd but keeps it a secret from the party. I’m planning a few different scenarios of the reveal, but here’s the first (and most serious). Next ones are gonna embody the original premise more. Couldn’t get this scene out of my head though. Also a bit of Astarion x Tav here.

Takes place as you meet Cazador, where he starts mocking Astarion.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Do the cattle not know you?”

They were below the Palace, facing Cazador as he readies the ritual for his Ascension. 200 years of torment and this is where it all ends. Here and now.

Astarion tenses, seconds from lunging. This was his tormentor, the bastard who robbed him of his freedom, the monster who destroyed thousands of lives. A vampire hundreds have tried and failed to kill.

The room grows colder as Cazador continues to humiliate, to mock, to belittle.

Astarion’s jaw clenches and-

Tav laughs, loud and mocking. They’ve barely reacted thus far, and the sudden noise catches everyone off guard. Their eyes glint, one natural and the other burning with fiery, infernal magic.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t take you seriously anymore. You truly are pathetic.” Tav taunts, head tilting as a lazy smirk crawls onto their face.

Cazador’s own mocking grin turns down into a sharp frown as he finally turns his attention to Tav. “Just what makes you think you can speak to me that way? You’re nothing more than a lamb led to slaughter. Cattle to be consumed. An animal at best.”

“Are all vampires this delusional?” Tav voices the question to no one in particular. Cazador seethes, and the party tenses.

What was Tav doing? Were they insane?!

Astarion moves to grab Tav as they take a couple steps forward, but misses as they smoothly sidestep away from his grasp.

Tav pulls out a sword hilt from the pouch on their hip, testing it’s weight in their hand absentmindedly. The party never understood the significance of this old sword hilt. Sure, it was beautiful, made of an elegant platinum, but it has long since lost it’s blade. Dammon once offered to forge it a new blade but Tav politely declined.

“I’ve met another vampire before you. He was always prattling on and on about being all powerful, lord of the night… something something.” Tav pauses to shift the sword hilt to their left hand. Slowly, deliberately, Tav locks eyes with Cazador (pointedly ignoring their party). “He’s dead now, of course.”

For a moment, Cazador pauses, before the same mocking grin returns. “A spawn is hardly considered a vampire. Though perhaps to you, worm, you see no difference.” Cazador then begins speaking slowly, as if communicating with a child or an animal. The mocking grin grows. “Allow me to enlighten you-“

“I never said ‘spawn’,” Tav cuts off Cazador. “Maybe your old age is finally getting to you, leech.”

Tav shifts the sword hilt back to their dominant hand, subtly maneuvering the hilt into a proper grip. “Maybe you’ve heard of him. His name eludes me. Forgive me, but it’s been a few years. I think it starts with an S.”

All the while, the party is flabbergasted. Sure, they’ve seen Tav do some questionable things over the past few months such as walk straight into a goblin camp, lick some spider meat, and even taunt Mizora—but this is a new level of insane.

Astarion tries to get their partner to stop, because for the love of everything, shut up. He’s never seen Cazador this mad before. Sure, they’ve survived some pretty dangerous situations before, but taunting a vampire lord is madness. However, each time he tries to move or speak, his voice dies in his throat. He’s terrified, he’s rooted on the spot. He’s afraid of Cazador yes, but he’s even more afraid for Tav. The brilliant, shining light of his life. The one person who showed him kindness, love. He’s afraid of Cazador, but he’s more scared of losing them.

Before Astarion could try to intervene again, he feels Tav send a wave of reassurance through the tadpole. They glance back at him for a moment, narrowed eyes softening, before turning once more to face Cazador.

Tav hums for a couple seconds as they pause to think. “Samael? No. Maybe it was Seraph?” They huff for a bit as they make a show of wracking their mind for the name. “Aha! I remember now.”

They brace for combat and the Sunsword answers its wielders call.

Tav’s smirk turns into a cold sneer. Their eyes glow as the hilt in their hand erupts in a fiery plume, a blade of radiant light now burning in the darkness. “It was Strahd.”

————————

Idk… if anyone wants to be notified of a new fic in this AU/series you can let me know?

Anyway, next these will all be independent of each other. Each will be an alternate take on the reveal.

I haven’t written anything besides D&D backstories in literal years so please forgive me if this is rather rough. Always open to constructive criticism.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #tav bg3 #tav killed strahd headcanon - serious edition #i am obsessed with this idea and i have more fics and reveals planned #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 mc #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 cazador #cazador szarr #curse of strahd #my tav recently got reincarnated through the reincarnation spell #reincarnate spell dnd #5e #dnd 5e #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #tav the strahd slayer #tav slayer of strahd

[pursuitseternal]

“Cleansing:” bathing smut and surprises in “Our Blood is Thicker”

Astarion x Named Tav (F!OC) | E | 4.6K of the calm before the storm

Summary: Securing rooms at the Elfsong was the easy part. The harder part, overcoming the wash of memories from their separation before. They both need a good cleansing, one where they will indulge each other.

CW: angst, banter, bathing handjobs, I was told to “let them fuck like rabbits” which is implied, one more memory flashback, and danger.

Previous ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 16: Cleansing…

💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞

“Does it… have to be here?” Cordehlia turned her cute little nose up at the smell in the tavern. To the rest of her party, it just seemed like she didn’t enjoy a stay at a public inn.

To Astarion, now he knew, it was sheer loathing, disgust, and almost a century of pain this place forced her to confront.

The Elfsong.

“Gale said the keeper is giving us the rooms for free, since we…” Shadowheart whispered behind her hand, all sneaky, “know about the murder upstairs…”

“It seems cheap here,” she shrugged beneath her armor. “Seedy, disreputable.”

“Sounds like you’re describing your intended, Cordehlia,” Gale taunted with that friendly smile. Even though it didn’t meet his eyes. Still that lingering jealousy and doubt she knew.

“Please,” Astarion laughed off the slight even as he put his arm around his love’s shoulders. “I was the son of a High Lord once, Gale,” he grimaced at the name on his tongue. “Cordehlia’s right, however, a place for disreputable debauchery and plotting, the Elfsong,” he laughed with a wave of his elegant hand. “We will all fit right in, I’m sure. Besides, we can't beat the price, and I won’t be sleeping on the streets.”

“Well,” Gale grinned again, perhaps a bit forced, “Can’t argue with that. Keeper said up the stairs.”

The party moved ahead, barely noticing that Cordehlia lingered back, rigid in Astarion’s arm. “Why here…” she huffed. “Won’t the keeper recognize his regular?” she hissed with spite.

“Darling, I haven’t hunted here for decades. It’s not even the same innkeeper.” He placed a kiss on her temple, feeling how her jaw clenched. “Maybe it’s time we make some pleasant memories here… together,” he purred right into her pointed ear, tracing up its delicate point with a feathery touch of a single digit.

She giggled at the tickling touch. “Fine,” she huffed. “But don’t expect me to spread my legs so easily. You’ll need to work for it if we stay here, my love. You have many years to make up for, you know.”

“Oh I know,” he smirked, one hand sliding to pull her in for a kiss by gripping the curve of her ass. “I am well aware of that fact, and that you will never let me forget it, my darling.”

He followed her up the tavern stairs, letting her slip from his arm’s hold. Lungs burned as he held his breath, worried and plagued with his old memories of his place. He tried to force them back down in the dank dungeon where he kept all those feelings from his centuries of torment. From all the targets, victims, hazy moments of disgust he had endured. He could swear it made his undead heart rap with dread. Calmly, slowly he stilled his breath, even as it grew more rapid and ragged as he climbed those same fucking stairs as he had a thousand times before.

This time was different, instead of trailing after some miserable wretch, some target, all he could see was the sway of Cordehlia’s hips and the way her ratted, unkempt, fiery red hair matched that rhythm down her back.

That made the panic subside.

As long as he had her, he would survive this.

The hall opened to a massive suite, a grand chamber filled with a dozen beds and every amenity. It was off limits to the likes of him before; he had only ever been here once, fortunately not on Cazador’s business. That night was fuzzy in his mind, a jumble of fear and exhilaration he recalled, slipping in the shadows with his contraband before being compelled back to the palace. A few moments to himself to steal a moment of respite…

Shaking his mess of curls, he followed Cordehlia towards a corner bed, one tucked away at least a bit, a few slatted screens here and there for privacy.

He smirked as she set her pack down, her toned shoulders rolling themselves out finally relieved of its weight. So graceful and lithe, she made quick work of her armor, dropping back a step at last to see him waiting at the foot of the bed.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she gestured to the massive collection of rooms.

But he only slipped his bag from his shoulder, dropping it on the mattress beside her from a great height.

Letting it fall, his claim to her space.

“Oh, my love,” she tugged its great weight over the covers with effort, “this one is mine…”

“But darling,” he grinned, snatching the bag from her hold and letting it rest at their feet, “what’s yours is also… mine.” Growling that last word, he swept her in his arms, pushing her back into the feathered bed. She yelped and giggled as she fell to his attack, his thin elven armor flexible enough for him to cover every inch of her unbound body. He kissed her, there in front of them all, pushing her legs apart even covered in the light metal that clung to his frame. Her hands dug at the bare skin at his nape, lips dancing with his, all in time with the buck of her hips.

“Insatiable minx,” he rasped between her pumping lips. “Why do you pretend?”

“I’m not, my love,” she chuckled, “you can have the neighboring bed…”

He hissed at that, caging her into the bed all the harder. Mouth trailing quickly to her neck, he sucked on the supple flesh, the skin already scarred from his fangs, bringing her blood to pump there all the faster before he…

“Ah,” she moaned, her skin giving way to teeth, sending her right to the edge of her climax in an instant. He sucked loudly, lapping and popping his lips from her flesh just to draw attention.

“For fucks sake, get a room!” Karlach guffawed from across the space.

“We have one,” Astarion laughed, sarcastic and dark as he raised his blood-drenched face to speak. “You just happen to be in it.”

“In all reality…” Cordehlia pushed her palm against his turned cheek, shoving him up with all her might. “You stink, my love.” She laughed, managing to lift him only slightly from her frame. “You need a good cleansing bath.”

“Tch,” he huffed and frowned in indignation. “I would never say such a thing, even if it were true.”

She scowled, “How loving of you…” Teasing, with just that hint of sarcasm behind it, she doubled her effort, a smile on those rosy lips of hers before she braced against his neck and lifted.

Crimson eyes wide, Astarion smiled wickedly in return. Obeying. Relenting as he raised himself from her body, his own muscles ached to return, taught with the need to do what they always had done in this tavern, longing to fuck her until she was incoherent, this time for pleasure and not from coercion.

But instead he huffed, sliding the plates of his armor off, watching her bare feet tread across the wood floorboards. He could smell her, as he said. But it was more than pleasant. That scent of her sweat, the way her arousal’s musk instantly filled his nose the moment he bit into her neck…

But first, he gathered himself, glancing around to ensure a moment of privacy before he adjusted his growing erection at her scent still in his nose. “Fucking hells,” he groaned as he dug out of his pack to get his cleanest clothes, all the way at the bottom of his bag. Finally, he fought with all the trinkets and loot in his sack to pull out a fresh set of trousers, when something heavy landed on the floor with a thud. One delicate hand reached to gather it up next to his feet, the green, leather bound tome right in her pale palm.

Cordehlia narrowed her eyes at the title embossed on the side in gold. “The Curse of the Vampyre?” she scanned the book and then locked those silver eyes with his, questioning, mischievous and suspicious. “Some light reading while I bathe?”

“Just a little research, darling,” he slipped it from her grasp to tuck it in with his clothing.

“How to kill Cazador?” she speculated, turning to head towards the now-steaming tub in the side of the room. That look she threw him from over her shoulder sent an instant shudder of warm desire to his groin.

“I think I’ll follow my instincts on that one, my love,” he chuckled, dark and tickled with the promise of violence. “No, no,” he hummed as they stopped at the side of the tub, watching as she closed the slat-screen separator, just a bit of privacy despite the wash of voices that floated around the suite. “I’m just… preparing for what it might be, between the two of us.”

Cordehlia slipped from her trousers, that hem of her undershirt barely covering that sweet apex of her thighs. Astarion swallowed the huffing moan he could have made. “Hmm,” she tossed him a smirk before turning her back on him. That little cream shift tugged up over her head as she let her voice lilt and flirt, “and what might that be for us? An eternity in love as Mistress Cordhelia Ancunín?”

“Close, my darling,” he set his clothing in a jumbled mess at his feet. The clean ones, too. And Cordehlia rolled her eyes as she watched him. Arms crossed over her bare breasts, she gave him a rueful yet desirous smile. He made no extra show, tugging his ruffled shirt off from over his one head, juggling the book between his grip. “You see, there’s a difference for a Vampire Lord in the creation of their servants or equals, whoever they should choose to make their own… to make them powerful like them…”

“Whatever fits their fickle, half-formed plans?” she taunted, stepping herself into the water, dunking her long, gnarled hair into the water.

Suddenly, tenderly, two hands fished her long hair from the water. Cordehlia turned slightly, his smirking face grinning with total mischief as he used those skilled hands of his to work the snarls from the end of her hair. A little rose scented oil on the tips of his fingers, and he worked them each out. No noise but the rasp of his breath down the back of her neck as he leaned over the tub. Warm water barely heated his touch, the pads of his touch brushed her cheek. Her head leaned into his palm, but a gasp from her lips slipped out as she felt his other hand close around her breast. His teeth scored over the sensitive shell of her ear, a whispering laugh tickling the inside. “Who’s to say I would be fickle… or have half-formed plans, if I were a Lord?”

A fang dragged over the soft curve of her earlobe, making her sigh, half-swallowed as her back arched at the sensation. “So… if you turn… if you can ascend, that’ll make you…?” she whispered, voice thick in that milk white throat of hers as she turned, water splashing in that tub as she swiveled.

“Lord Astarion….” He sighed, an intense and dreamy look in the dark red of his eyes. “Vampire Ascendant.”

“Is that what’s in your book, my dear? Is that what you’ve been researching?”

“No,” he rasped, standing as he slowly brought his hands to the waistband of his leathers. Pale fingers slipped the small buttons barely holding it closed free one at a time. “If you can’t tell… it’s you and your wellbeing that’s on my mind, darling…” Hands tugging that flap apart, his cock sprang free, and he couldn’t help but give a low, rumbling chuckle as she bit her lip at its sight.

Cordehlia slid over a smidge, her own lithe fingers massaging through her damp hair. Silver eyes were locked on his every move, the way he slipped from those leather pants, the way he slowly sank into the waters beside her.

The way his own right fang peeked out as he chewed his lip and wrapped his arms around her body at last. “I’ve never met one before, never even heard aside from rumors of their existence among my kind. They are rarely created, the perfect match for a Vampire Lord, the perfect threat to them too. But they say there is no greater love than a trusting Lord and his loving… Bride.”

She shivered in his arms, shaking her whole body despite the swirling steam that surrounded them.

“That’s what you want… isn’t it?” he purred right into the folds of her ear again, a single hand stealing underwater to run down her belly. “To be mine… forever?”

Her mouth opened, he could hear it, feel it in her jaw, but no noise came out but breath. Not until he slunk two fingers between her thighs, finding the even warmer, wetter slick that gathered there.

Her legs bent under the water, feet braced on the side of the cloth and wood of the tub. But he slowed his hand, dragging a single fingertip, a single nail even, over that hard little clit of hers. “You have to tell me, darling, if you will be mine… no matter what…”

Her hand reached behind her, clawing into the mess of his own damp curls and slotting her body between his own clenching legs. “You know my answer. It’s the same. It’s unchanging. Constantly beating yes when it comes to you, Astarion, for two-hundred years.”

“I’m so pleased to hear it,” he hissed, gratifying the little bucks of her hips by sinking his long fingers deep inside her channel. “Best keep it quiet though, I would hate to offend the rest of our group’s sensibilities…”

“You would love to give them offense,” Cordehlia snarled back, pulling him by his hair to whisper back in his own ear. Giving him just what he gave her. “You would love to make me give little whimpers, make me moan your name just loud enough to have one of them chastise you, hmm?”

“For what?” he growled back, starting to pick up his pace as he stroked her and crooked his touch inside her. “For being the consummate lover I am? For making you, the great warrior, whine for me, my little pet and darling?”

A hand reached behind her, her fist closing firmly around his cock, making a noise not unlike a moan come from his own throat through his gritted teeth.

“So are you going to share your research…” she pumped him, hard in grip and slow in measure, as she rode his fingers. A smile on her face. “Going to tell me more about what you think might happen?”

“Three bites,” he panted, those fingers of his working inside her, determined to make her squeal and come first. “And then… I drink you almost dry…” His voice in her ear is feral, more monster than man, and Cordehlia shivered, rapture taking hold at his touch and words and… all of him.

“Go on…” she murmured, voice thick in her throat, even as he hand gripped tighter and sloshed more water as she tried to keep up with his own fingers fucking inside her.

“I give you my blood, letting it fill you and make you mine. They say it will be far more pleasurable than anything you have ever… ever… experienced.” He panted, her thumb sweeping right over that spot only she knew, beneath the dip of his head. His thighs clenched, his balls tightened. “Gods,” he groaned, too close now to back down.

“And then I would be your Bride?” she replied, trying so hard to sound perfect and calm, hiding her own approaching pleasure with a pressed and quiet tone.

He held his breath, scoring a nail over that patch inside her, the one he knew always pushed her, careening towards her climax. “Yes,” he finally ground the single word out, definitely louder than he had hoped. “You’ll be your own being, your own set of powers linked to mine. We will walk in the sun, share our minds, share every bit of pleasure and … pain.” He whimpered loudly, too loudly, as she tugged and fondled him mercilessly.

A knock sounded on the divider, Shadowheart’s lyric voice only a bit muffled from the other side. “Can you hurry it up? The longer you take, the longer the rest of us poor peasants need to wait until it’s our turn…. And we obviously need to get fresh water now…”

“Shut up,” he growled, that hand on his cock not slowing a second even as their moment was invaded.

“Shh, play nice,” Cordehlia corrected him, hand leaving his shaft for a moment to clutch those smooth, hard balls in her palm, tight and ready to burst any second now. “Two people in one tub deserve twice as long, logically. Give us five more minutes.” She called so politely.

Their cleric huffed and stamped away, but not before her fingers stroked that flushed, fleshy head in their touch. Once, twice more, she pulsed that grip and stars covered his vision. Coils of heat burst inside him, spurts of cum sullying the water, and best of all, her own cunt flared and clenched in time. Her freehand flew to her mouth, covering it tightly to not make a sound. But he had her, the extra oily slick of her arousal shot around his fingers, her thighs shaking in the water as she bucked out her climax on his touch. And just when she neared the supple pleasure after, fangs sliced into her.

Her shoulder was pierced once, twice, three times. Nips in rapid succession until the final one. That, Astarion let his teeth sink fully into the crook of her shoulder, savoring the sweet, almost floral bouquet of her blood on his tongue. Filling his belly.

Her head rested back against his chest, body limp and warm. A comforting weight against where his heart would have beat, a sad smile on his lips as he released from her neck. Tenderly, he didn’t want to disturb her, he nuzzled into her damp red hair. As he breathed in, that rose-scented oil barely masked her own floral scent.

He didn’t want to disturb her, but maybe she needed to know….

“There’s a bit more to the Dark Kiss… umm the way that a Bride is made…” He trailed off as she turned. Her face was lined with confusion as she wrapped her legs around him in the water, looking hopeful, worried, waiting on his every word.

Astarion sighed. “It’s a bit dangerous,” he continued at last. “Once you wake to feed for the first time, you… you won’t be yourself. You will be feral, ravenous,” he paused, realizing the weight of his words, “dangerous. I’ll have to subdue you to make sure we both remain safe…”

“Alive you mean,” Cordehlia nodded, sage and slow as his meaning took hold. She looked over his shoulder, eyes distant as she thought for a moment. “More than anything, Astarion, I trust you.”

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips tighter, hiding the way tears stung behind his eyelids and the way his jaw wanted to tremble.

“Besides,” she shifted closer to him, running a hand down the ridges of his belly to grip him by the balls again. “You will love the chance to subdue me for once, even if it’s in unfair circumstances.”

Astarion swallowed the grunt at the delicious pressure she put on him, turning it to a laugh. “You're no different you know, not letting me bend the rules so I can win, just like when we were children.”

“Never,” she shook her head, coy smile and flirtatious glints in her eyes. “I’ll never let you off free, not even if you are some exalted Lord.” Those lithe fingers clutched one more time harder around his manhood. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way, my love.”

“Whatever makes you happy, my darling,” he purred, still hiding that lump in his throat. That niggling guilt over what he had done before, now that he knew. Now that he remembered. “I’ll try to be worthy of all that trust you have in me.”

She leaned against his chest, arms wrapping around his neck to bring him closer. A tender smile turning one corner of her lips, she kissed him. “I know you will.”

There was so much to be done… but for this evening, for tonight, they all rested in comfort for once. Every other member in their group gave them a massively wide berth, treating them like newlyweds, letting them hide behind the dividers around their bed, ignoring the little noises that came from behind it. Only once a meal was brought out did Cordehlia leave their little hideaway, just long enough to avoid everyone’s knowing smirks and make a simple plate of cheeses and breads.

Then her bare feet hurried back, for a moment of silence before the subtle and constant rustling resumed from behind those partitions.

A few hours later, silence finally fell. Night in the city was still so loud, too loud. And Cordehlia just couldn’t trance no matter how hard she tried. Even as Astarion fell into easy rest beside her, one arm braced behind her head and the other resting on his belly as it rose and fell. He was comfortable here, his home away from her for almost two centuries. That old pang of bitterness flared in her chest, and she sat aright. All she could hear was soft breathing in the night.

She looked out the window, dawn just starting to break with light. Climbing from the bed, she slipped into her clothing, that fresh cream undershirt, sensible black leathers. She would be quick, that pain from her past pushing her to return one more time to that place where agony had taken root.

One more glance to his beautiful, pale, naked body resting in their bed, she kissed her fingers and pressed it featherlight to his forehead. She’d be right back. One last visit to his grave to close the pain of the past.

Boots on her feet, she reached for her dagger. Just the one, her most favorite, if only to make her feel completely dressed; it would just be a jaunt around the corner to the graveyard, a couple of turns in the safety of the sun before she would return. And after all the ways he’d had her last night, she was sure he’d trance his way through that time.

She stepped silently through the dim room, paying no heed to anything other than that door, than her mission to bid the past farewell for good.

Astarion turned in his trance, his sleep restless and uneasy, the memories of being in the Elfsong mostly inflicting those little cuts and wounds of torture from his past as Cazador’s spawn. Except that one time he had been in this suite of rooms….

His dream swept him back to that time, the way his feet hurried away from the other spawn sent there with him to hunt. That little piece of paper in his hand secreted beneath his arm as he hurried silently up the stairs, picking the lock quickly into this empty set of rooms. It hadn’t been hard to find a dark corner, a loose floorboard…

He didn’t know why it was so important to him, but he had known he wanted to keep it. Even if he couldn’t bring it back to the palace, even if he knew that stealing away from his siblings and coming home empty handed tonight meant a spell in the kennels and a session with Godey. His chest rose and fell with the thrill of insolence. That parchment, that news flier unfolding in his hands made him smile.

Eyes scanned the words too quickly to really take in the story, some account of a battle… some fearsome tale of this warrior goddess… All he could do was stare at the printed likeness of her face on the paper. Black and white, just ink and fading parchment, but he had wanted it. And when Petras had tried to tug it from his fingers, he had snarled and disappeared into the crowd. Now he could savor his treasure, enjoy his stolen goods.

She was alluring, that long hair drawn to tease behind her, that sculpted body covered in dark armor, her face hard and fearsome and yet… something about her lips taunted him. Coy and teasing, beckoning him to look closer.

And closer he did look. His mind had raced over the words, no memory of them now almost a century later… but he remembered clearly what he did with that image in those few stolen moments. How his cock had hardened instantly, how it had been only a few moments of rough and dry handfucking for him to come.

How he had wiped himself clean quickly, breathless from actual pleasure for once in his long, broken memory, before he stashed that flier with the pretty She-elf on it under the floorboard.

Astarion bolted awake at last. Hardly noticing he was alone, he scampered from the bed, tripping as he slipped on his trousers too quickly and scuttled across the suite to the opposite corner.

“What in the hells are you doing, Fangs?” Karlach huffed a laugh, amused and annoyed as she had to hurry out of his way.

He said nothing, fingers pulling the wood up to free that long lost, buried treasure. Flinging himself against the wall, he shook his head. If he didn’t have company, he would have, could have cried.

Victory of the Bone Picker.

Clear as the day that dawned outside the window, he finally took the time to look at the words. To look into the printed eyes of his love.

He knew, somehow all those decades ago, he knew.

“Damn, Fangs, is that Cordehlia?” Karlach peered from the other end. “You knew that was here… you saved it here after all this time, didn’t you?”

“I guess so,” was his honest reply. Those crimson eyes looked up wide and shining wet. “Where is she?”

Karlach shook her head, taken aback. “Isn’t she sleeping her climax marathon off in your bed?”

“No,” he suddenly went rigid. Standing, flying to his feet to peer around the rooms. “Has anyone see Cordehlia?” he couldn’t hide the desperation in his voice now.

Gale looked up from his book at that. “She went for a stroll early this morning, first light. I don’t think she saw me here… not that she pays me much mind at any rate…”

“Shh, shh,” Astarion hushed him right up once he sounded as if he would start another one of his diatribes. “Not now, Gale,” he snipped. “That must have been an hour ago already, so where is she?”

“You could always use our little friends,” Gale suggested, two fingers tapping on the side of his head.

“You mean reach out?” the Vampire frowned.

“Wouldn’t hurt,” the Wizard gave a terse reply. For once.

Astarion closed his eyes, feeling the waves of the tadpole’s power emanating from his mind, searching for the other end.

Something faint returned. A flash of a cemetery, a headstone with his name on it, and a pair of glowing red eyes and stringy black hair staring down at her before… darkness.

Silence.

Nothingness.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Our Blood will update again in 3 days, so your arms don’t get too tired hanging from that cliff 💞💞

#astarion x female tav #astarion x f!tav #Astarion x cordehlia #astarion x female oc #cliffhanger #sorry (not sorry) #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #astarion spoilers #bg3 spoilers #baldur’s gate spoilers #astarion #astarion angst #astarion ancunin #bg3 fic #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur’s gate iii #baldurs gate smut #baldur’s gate astarion #baldur’s gate 3

[bloodlust-1]

The Consort ₊⁺જ⁀➴

NSWF | Explicit 18+ | Angst | Blood | Ascended Astarion | Spawn Tav | Dark | Smut | Trauma | Stockholm Syndrome | Violence

Ascended Astarion x fem Tav

Chapter: 6 | Please Don’t Go

Summary: In a tumultuous tale of love, power, and betrayal, Tav finds herself entangled in a complex relationship with Astarion, a heartless vampire lord who will stop at nothing to maintain control over his newfound spawn. As Tav witnesses Astarion’s transformation and descent into darkness, their love is put to the ultimate test amidst love triangles, drama, and the pursuit of world domination. Redemption seems like an elusive goal while Tav grapples with the realization of who her lover has truly become.

UPDATED EVERY MONDAY.

Notes: Hi, hi 🫶🏼 back again for another chapter - let’s get this shit started

posting couple hours early bc of work ^^

AO3 LINK | MASTER LIST

Lovely photo by @astarionposting

Tav and Astarion arrived back home a day later from the lively party in Waterdeep, and Astarion was unusually quiet as they made their way inside their home.

Without uttering a word, Astarion disappeared into his study, completely in his own silence. It was like he was in deep thought and Tav was no interruption.

She sighed.

He seems like something's on his mind...Maybe being home again made the reality of his ascension real each time he came back to this damned palace without a problem.

Tav put down her coat and followed Astarion into his study, where she found him sitting in a luxurious chair, fists against his mouth, staring aimlessly into the fireplace.

He was in one of his moods.

In a gentle tone, “Is everything alright?” Tav took a few steps and stood beside him. Leaning over slightly, her eyes tried to get a peek at his face.

Astarion remained motionless, his eyes still fixed on the flickering flames. Without turning to look at Tav, he spoke lowly, “How would you feel if I shared my gift? Eternal life. In exchange, spawn will serve us, carrying out tasks that others would shy away from.”

Tav’s laughed nervously, her head tilting slightly in disbelief. “Is that what that woman wanted from you..?” she asked, trying to make sense of his words.

A moment of silence passed before Astarion shook his head slowly. He straightened up from his position and moved closer to the fireplace, feeling the warmth caress his pale skin. “No,” he replied quietly.

“It appears that I was not the only person trying to kill Cazador,” Astarion continued, his eyes narrowing as he recalled recent events. “Although her attempt was unsuccessful, she did plant a seed of thought in my mind.”

Turning to face Tav directly, Astarion’s gaze bore into hers. “We could amass an army of our own kind, create more like us, and crush any mortal foolish enough to oppose our rule. The legacy of House Ancunin shall be one of power and dominance.”

Tav bit her lip and averted her gaze from him. She knew he was set on this but that woman. Something didn't feel right about her, "More like us...? I don’t want there to be anyone else. I want it to be just me and you, not create another house of spawns!”

Tav could feel Astarion's gaze on her. Admittedly, her possessiveness over him touched him for a brief moment.

Tav instantly tried to justify herself, "Look at Cazador's downfall. I don't want you to end up like him, I only worry for you Astarion..."

He snapped quickly, "I am NOT Cazador. I am better than him."

Tav scuffed, “Bend, break, and manipulate all the petty royals you want, but I will not share my home with any spawn.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, "You’re quite set on this aren’t you?" He walked up to Tav, challenging her with eyes like daggers, "You do know, your future is mine to control."

"You are mine. Aeterna Amantes - Lovers forever, until the world falls down." his fingers traced her jawline while his eyes burned into hers.

Astarion’s words were tainted with ownership and control. It was not a promise of equal love, but a statement of possession, "If I wanted to burn this world to the ground, make everyone kneel at my feet, you will be there by my side.”

The tingle of his soft touch grazed her jaw, opposite to his tainted words.

She stared at him with hurt in her eyes...How unbelievable, this was not the person Tav thought he was. "Is this all you care about - Power? What about us?" Tav took a couple steps away from him, shaking her head. To think he would want anything more out of Tav now.

I want us to be happy.

I want it all. I want to travel the world. I want a family, not a dictatorship.

Did I make a mistake?

“You already possess everything, yet you fail to recognize it!” Tav yelled, watching as Astarion’s chest rose and fell with frustration.

Astarion sighed in annoyance. How could she be so foolish and not understand the endless possibilities?

"It's not enough! I will not be that weak spawn I once was," Astarion got closer to Tav with each syllable he harshly spat.

Tav took a step back, her eyes wide with realization.

"I'll...never be enough for you. You will never be...the Astarion I met when he had nothing, only love to give me." Her voice cracked with hurt and anger.

Tav gestured towards him with her eyes glossed in hurt, "And look at you now."

Astarion puffed his chest out, his eyes gleaming with pride. “I am a vampire ascendant. I am powerful.”

Tav shook her head, “No, Astarion. I just want you to respect my opinions too as your consort! You are not Cazador. And I will not become like you.”

His eyes flickered for a moment, softening to her statement. The way her words hit into him landed a little too close to home. For a moment, sympathy was in his stare.

It hurt him deeply. For her to stare at him the way he used to stare at Cazador.

Tav was enough.

Tav’s hands dropped to her sides in defeat. The tears in her eyes threatened to fall but she tried to stay strong. Tav didn't want to be weak in front of him. She started to storm off from Astarion, but he quickly questioned her with desperation.

Astarion’s voice cracked with hurt suddenly, "Where are you going?" His chest felt like it was collapsing in with furrowed brows.

“Out.” She pushed past Astarion, her face flushed a deep red with boiling anger.

Astarion’s breath hitched, his anger starting to rise with grief. How could she...How dare she?

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly as he yelled out to Tav, grasping her arm and pulling her back towards him. “WHERE THE HELLS ARE YOU GOING?”

Tav stumbled over her feet, attempting to break free from Astarion’s grasp. This frightened her...she'd never seen him like this before.

Tav cried out, ripping her arm away and breaking free from his hold. “Stop it!”

She couldn’t leave. She belonged to him. The thought of Tav walking away tore at him, constricting his throat and leaving him gasping for air. His lungs ripped out Tav’s name repeatedly.

“You can’t leave me!” Astarion's eyes went wet with rage.

The room went dizzy for Astarion. The reality of his actions started to weigh heavy at that moment. His head was running a thousand miles away to a dark place.

Don't go.

Don't leave me alone with myself.

He followed sternly after Tav, quickly reaching out for her wrist.

I need you.

Please.

Suddenly, something within Tav seemed to snap, and her eyes glowed into a deep yellow. Her druid form took over her body, taking on an animalistic appearance with claws extending from her fingertips.

In one swift motion, Tav’s hand swiped back through the air, perfectly connecting with Astarion’s face. He released her wrist immediately.

He clutched his own face with a pained groan. Astarion looked down at his bloodied palm in shock and disbelief. She scratched me.

Tav’s eyes instantly reverted back to their pale white, and she gasped at the sight of what she had just done. Her stomach knotted when she trailed the droplets of blood drip off his jaw.

She blinked repeatedly, trying to come to the reality of what just happened.

Tav reached out her hand to Astarion, "I -...Oh gods, Astarion I'm s-so..." Astarion cut Tav off and recoiled in anger and disbelief.

He stared at her coldly and menacing, causing Tav to shrink back in fear.

“Go,” Astarion growled through gritted teeth, averting his gaze from her. “Get out of my sight.”

Without a word more Tav sniffled and walked out of the room with tears running down her face.

Fuck.

Tav didn't mean to hurt him. She wasn't even sure what had just taken over her, she was never violent like that on a whim. This wasn't like herself at all.

She ran out of the palace, aimlessly walking around the city in the dead of night. The tears stained her skin wet and in the back of her mind, she thought of Ross.

She remembered what he had told her: "If you’re ever looking for someone to talk to back home, I’m always at the Blushing Mermaid."

Tav sniffled and wiped her tears with her sleeve. Maybe she could confide in someone...

~

Tav made her way to the Blushing Mermaid, and before she could even walk inside, she could smell the strong scent of alcohol. She recoiled in her stomach, that terrible smell of drunk people. Eck.

She opened the doors, and Gods the smell was even worse. But it was very lively, singing, dancing, yelling, and loud music being played by a nearby band.

Tav sank onto a barstool, her gaze wandering aimlessly across the crowded room. The bartender, an older man, caught sight of her weary expression and slid a drink her way. "You look like you need this more than I do," he said.

Grateful, Tav clasped the glass, offering a nod of appreciation before taking a sip.

Just as the fiery liquid burned its way down her throat, a pair of hands landed gently on her shoulders. Tav turned, finding Ross settling into the seat beside her. A warm smile spread across his face. "Hey, Tav! I knew that was you," he greeted with genuine delight.

But as his eyes fell on her red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, his smile faded. "What happened?" He tilted his face with concern.

Embarrassment washed over Tav, and she lowered her head in shame, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping her lips. "Just got into a fight with Astarion...I feel terrible," she admitted with regret. Ross's frown deepened as he listened intently, his eyes fixed on her every word.

He half-smiled, "Do you want to talk about it? We can get out of here. It's a little too loud right now." Standing up, he extended his hand towards Tav.

She hesitated for a moment before accepting his offer, feeling the touch of his hand under hers. But his kindness was comforting.

"I know a good spot." Ross softly let go of her hand and they walked silently to the docks of the shore. Their shoes clicked and echoed under the wood of the docks and Ross took a deep breath of the salty air, "Now tell me - why the tears?"

Tav bit down on her lips and crossed her arms in a self-hug, "I accidentally scratched him in the face...and made him bleed."

"What? Now why would you do that?"

"He grabbed my wrist and...ah...fuck - I don't know what came over me."

"Wait, wait -" His eyes narrowed in confusion and anger, "Why was he grabbing you in the first place?" he clicked his tongue in dispute.

Tav shook her head over and over, "I was trying to leave and he didn't want me to go."

Ross became passionate at the moment and raised his voice, "So?! No one should be putting their hands on you like that. That's really possessive, don't you think?"

Tav felt defeated and she went to wipe a single tear that fell from her eyes. He was right and hearing the truth made it sting even more.

Tav ran her fingers threw her locs and lifted her hair in a ponytail, gripping her scalp as a stress reliever. Just as Tav heaved out a stressful sigh Ross went uncharacteristically silent.

When she turned her head, Ross had been staring at her with wide eyes, his mouth slightly a gap.

"Oh no..." He whispered into the air as he approached Tav closer.

Her heart skipped a beat, and the warmth of his hand fell on her chin, pulling her face to the side. His eyes glared at the bite marks that scared Tav's skin.

Ross wetted his lips and softly spoke, "Did he do this to you...?"

Tav averted her eyes and stepped away, breaking their contact. She turned her back and hid her scars with her thick hair. Her fingers nervously brushed down the strands.

"Tav - are you a vampire?" Ross sounded dumbfounded, maybe even disappointed.

"I don't need your disappointment too."

Ross scoffed and shook his head, pressing his thumbs firmly on the bridge of his nose, "I'm just surprised. I didn't think your relationship with him went that far." Tav was right. He was disappointed, this was vital information his sister would definitely want to hear...but he didn't feel right about it.

He pitied Tav.

"He's a monster." Ross sneered to himself.

Tav quickly turned her head, and her demeanor quickly became defensive, "He’s not a monster he’s just hurt!" Tav snapped at Ross and just as she had quickly defended Astarion, her attitude simmered back down, not meaning to yell at her friend like that.

Her head pounded with overwhelming feelings. Things between her and Astarion changed when he ascended and it was boiling to a breaking point for Tav.

She whispered out, her voice cracking and barely audible, "All that pain...It changed him into something he's not."

When she faced Ross straight on, the tears on her cheeks sparkled against the moonlight, "Is it my fault?"

Ross shook his head and placed his hand on her shoulder, stroking it to calm her, "Don’t blame yourself…"

Tav held her breath, her body became timid and shaky, "He's just so full of hurt and I don't know how to get through to him."

Ross scrunched his lips to the side in a furrow and eyed her wet face, "If he is smart, he'd apologize for treating you like an object."

She buried her face between her hands, sobbing as she sank to the floor and held her knees.

Ross knelt down on the floor and gently placed a hand on her back, rubbing her in comfort.

As Tav's cries subsided into sniffles, Ross let out a sigh, "Did you eat anything yet? We can go grab a bite. Get your mind off of things."

Tav looked up at him, her eyes red and tearful, her expression questioning his proposal, "Food isn't going to fill me right now...If you understand."

Ross covered her neck with his hands, "Well this neck is off limits." He teased her and stuck out his tongue.

Tav chuckled a fangy smile and wiped away old tears, "Don't worry," she replied, her voice tinged with playful sarcasm. "I'll save your neck for another day."

"So what do you do for blood then?" He became questionable, trying to figure it out in his head.

"Animals, whatever I can get."

"How about we go hunting outside the walls?" Ross suggested. But Tav felt hesitant, her mind still clouded with sadness.

"The night is young. Plus, I'm kinda curious to see you hunt for something.” He rested his chin into his palm, “Want to see what all that hype was about."

At that moment, she trusted Ross to guide her through this time of sorrow. She saw him as a friend, and an outlet to grow a bond outside of her relationship. A healthy social life.

But then again, Tav could just imagine the look on Astarion's face if he knew about this. Even if it was harmless, she would definitely be punished.

What if he punishes me either way?

Ross snapped Tav out of her thoughts, "If you wish to keep degrading yourself, I'll leave you to it." he stated firmly, his hands slipping into his pockets as he turned to walk away from her.

In a moment of defiance, Tav stood tall and took in a deep breath, "Lead the way."

Ross paused in his steps, surprised by Tav’s response. He turned back to face her, studying her for a moment before nodding slightly. Without a word, he gestured for her to follow as he began walking again.

Next part here

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

Drama and TRAUMA. Baby Astarion, he’s just deeply rooted in hurt. But let’s build up some relationships between characters, shall we? 😌

#the consort #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion acunin #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion fanfic #astarion series #astarion smut #ascended astarion #spawn tav #astarion angst #Spotify

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

I love your Astarion work! I was curious if you could write a semi lengthy (if possible) angst/jealous Astarion x Tav/Reader??? Also hurt reader/Tav is always great too. I crave comfort lol

I hope you like it!

Rated: M

Warnings: spoilers for dark ending, transformation, vampiric

The manor is oppressive, heavy as if a ball and chain are leashed to your neck forcing you to bow, this place screams for submission. The want to give in, to let go, be controlled, dominated. It sickens you as Astarion guides you around the home of all his trauma. Naturally, you want to comfort him, hold his hand, and squeeze it to reassure him. However, this is not the time or place. The deeper you both travel into the bowels of Cazador’s palace, the heavier this weight is on your back, choking you as if you misbehaved.

Then came the cells. The sins of the past stabbed and twisted between Astarion’s ribs nicking his heart.

He is distant… You try to tell him this isn’t his fault, that Cazador is to blame. He was used just like they are.

The rules of being a vampire do not help as it is revealed what happened to Cazador’s master is part of the cycle to learn, adapt, and succeed. The rule of two where one will kill the other and repeat the cycle with another. The throne of blood you pray Astarion wants nothing to do with as he sees what is the cost of power.

The Black Mass is unholy and you silently pray to Lathander for his radiance to shine and burn that bastard Szarr to ashes.

Wishful thinking as the moment you enter the ritual chambers things go south, fast.

With now all seven of his spawn, he is strong-- Stronger and though using the spells and holy water do weaken him (barely), he is stronger than most foes.

"Perhaps after my ascension, I shall take your spawn friend as my own." The taunt is spoken during the battle as you struggle to keep up and your hirelings are spread out fighting the summoned bats, werewolves, and ghouls. The words are intended to be salt upon the wound as Astarion is helpless to fight against his master and this ritual. The screams do not help, the blood in the air does not help, and…

You… Are afraid.

This is too close to what happened to you, at the temple of Kanchelsis. Your master was pleased to watch as you writhed in agony as you turned into the beast you are. A vampire who shares the bestial madness of a werewolf.

Being tossed into a column like nothing as the vampire lord takes special interest in attacking you. Your body is in pain, bruises with internal bleeding, and the mental fear is keeping you on the ground struggling to get up. The laugh echoes, your vision blurring, and when you blink you… See your master standing above you with the bat-shaped head of the staff making you tilt your head up.

“Stay right there.”

He… He is going to win… He is going to ascend…

He is going to kill Astarion!

You must push on! Every muscle in your body protesting as you get up, your blood spilling as your form shifts to that beast, bigger, deformed, and grotesque. The whispers of the dark father in the back of your mind as you roared like a beast unleashed from its cage. Jaheira had been teaching you druidic magic as it seemed you had a talent for it. Seems that comes from the beast within, it hungers and Cazador looks like the perfect toy to chew on.

There is a cost, you know it, this power is tapping into the essence of vampirism. The beast, the hunger that comes with the gift and blessing of Kanchelsis; that cost you care not about, not now. No longer will you allow yourself to be chained down by the memories of the years of torture and abuse!

Astarion needs you, you need him, and you need each other.

Damn the cost! Damn this place, damn everything!

The beast roars with rage! An animal instinct as it recognizes Astarion as the mate, a mate in danger.

The slaughter is fighting to this bat-shaped form you are in, Cazador can’t keep up even in his mist form. When you try to rip his head off or attempt to fly and grab him; he knows how to flee.

“Scurry and scatter like rats!” Your voice is not your own, it is the beast that relishes in the hunt this lordling provides.

There are points when you blackout, in and out of a waking dream, then when the bloodlust no longer consumes your body and mind. Your body is back to normal but the wounds are worse, you need blood soon in order to properly heal.

“Wake up!”

Astarion. The sigh of relief hurts though it is being healed, well attempted to, away by the hireling cleric. Your eyes watch the scene of long-awaited and overdue revenge take place.

“I need your help.” His voice does not hide the desperation, the need.

This was your warning, you should have told him to stop or… You can’t raise a claw against him. There is too much between you to end it with steel or claw. So your eyes and mind are his to see through.

It is through those he seals his fate and the fate of seven thousand souls.

#fanfiction #reader insert #astarion #anon ask #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Not a request, but definitely a scenario for you to consider: Astarion/Ace!Reader Hadestown!AU where Cazador manages to get hold of the reader and only agrees to let Astarion leave with them if he can lead them out of the Szarr Palace without turning around or using the tadpole to see if they’re following him.

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

Definitely an interesting AU to contemplate considering Astarion very much does not fit the mold of Orpheus. Oddly enough I feel like the more powerful ending in this case would be for him to succeed.

Evie/Tav is a down on their luck bard who knows what it is to be cold and hungry

Astarion has just worked off his debt to Cazador vowing to never go back, even if the world above doesn’t seem much kinder

Astarion meets Evie/Tav when they’re playing at a local tavern their music bringing a light he hasn’t felt in years

Neither of them are naive to the ways of the world, but Evie/Tav has been able to keep a small candle of hope burning in their chest one they try to share with Astarion

For a little while things are good, summer arrives and there is food and plenty

They fall deeper in love as Astarion finally starts to accept that maybe he can finally rest his head some where bright and warm

But then winter comes and while they both have saved what they could the cold comes in

Astarion starts to wonder if it’s better to leave

Evie/Tav might be able to survive on their own, but not with him there stealing their warmth

He’s better on his own anyway, he’s survived worse

Evie/Tav feeling him start to pull away scrambles to find a solution

That’s when Cazador approaches offering them a deal to ensure Astarion’s comfort and safety in exchange for their life

Evie/Tav agrees

Astarion then wakes to find them gone

At first he thinks they abandoned him, he shouldn’t be surprised, how naive was he to think anyone could care for him

But then he catches wind of their deal

He doesn’t know why they went with Cazador and he has absolutely no plan, he just knows he can’t let them stay in that hell

So he travels down, maybe for the first time in years praying for somebody to help; the gods never answered his prayers before but maybe they will for Evie/Tav

Evie/Tav then starts to realize the mistake they made, while they try to hold onto hope, each moment brings a new torment they couldn’t have imagined

Astarion finally arrives finding Evie/Tav broken

He tries to get them out but Cazador refuses, citing the deal Evie/Tav made

This is where things get fuzzy, but I think Astarion proposes his own deal, Cazador likes causing pain, he’ll endure any torture he can conceive and if he succeeds he and Evie/Tav both walk out of there with their lives

Cazador agrees challenging Astarion to lead Evie/Tav out of the palace without looking back

The added challenge to this is that if Evie/Tav turns back on their own their years of service will be cut in half, if Astarion looks back their years of service will be doubled

Evie/Tav has had the hope taken out of them and Astarion must be their light

So Astarion starts to walk clinging to the hope that Evie/Tav trusts him to not look back, hoping that it isn’t a trick, hoping that just this once things will turn out

And hope hurts, it burns his chest strangles his throat, doubts and fears rush in but he keeps on walking because he has to try

He starts to sing the song Evie/Tav played what feels like years ago, the one that brought life back into his chest

He doesn’t stop until he’s well outside the palace walls collapsing to his knees and gasping for air

He still can’t hear Evie/Tav, but he doesn’t look back

Tears spill down his face as the hope that kept him going starts to drain out of him

It’s then he feels a hand on his back, soft and warm

Familiar arms wrap around him, clinging to him like a life line

“It’s you.” “It’s me.”

Bonus Hadestown AU consideration: Ascended!Astarion as Hades and Evie (Ace!Tav) as Persephone

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion x evie #spawnsong #hadestown au #cazador szarr #astarion headcanons

[eyebagshawty]

Is It Really You? (Part 2)

Pairing: Astarion x Spawn!Reader

Summary: While Astarion is roaming the streets for Cazador's next meal, he stumbles upon someone crying near the edge of the lower city. Turns out, you wouldn't be a worthy victim, and you're a lot closer to him than you may imagine.

Song Inspo: Is It Really You? By Loathe

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/cruelty, mentions of abuse, mentions of trauma, NSFW (18+ ONLY), Cazador is his own warning

Other Tags: Slow burn, eventual smut, fem!Reader, soulmates

A/N: Hello! It’s definitely been a small second since I’ve posted (and after starting a series/requests at that). Finals and holidays are eating me alive but I found a bit of time to get to part 2 so hopefully y’all like it !

Part 1 Part 3

You walked into the palace, clutching the body of the wolf close to your chest. Your veins were buzzing with anxiety — you’d been out far too long for Cazador not to notice — and you needed to think of an excuse. Quickly. As you trepidly hurried up the stairs you went still at the sound of the castle door opening from far off.

Astarion. You’d only just met him but you’d felt you’d known him for years. You couldn’t describe the knot in your chest thinking about him. Was he just the first guy to show you loving attention in centuries? Or was it something more than that? You felt a little tug in your chest. Your head felt fuzzy when you realized he must have sensed you.

Cazador appeared at the top of the stairs, seemingly out of thin air. “Lost, little love?” He threw you a cruel smirk, walking like a panther having found it’s prey over to meet you. You clutched the wolf tighter to your chest, begging not to break eye contact.

“My apologies, master. The wolf gave me trouble, he was hard to track down.” Despite the bile rising in your throat, you forced a shy smile. Cazador ran his forefinger across your cheek and then quickly sliced it open with his nail. He leaned down and lapped up the blood that trickled out of the shallow cut. You felt sick.

“Well, girl, that might just not do. You’re a hunter you should be-“ he paused, sniffing the air. You took in a discreet breath through your nose and that’s when you smelled it. Bergamot, rosemary, and brandy. It was radiating off of you, as if Astarion had accidentally placed a mark on you. “Where is that petulant, weak little boy,” Cazador placed a possessive arm around you and pulled you behind him, “Upstairs, toy. Leon will be waiting for you to complete your little vision retry. Go on.” He quickly waved you away and growled down the stairs towards a wing of the castle you had never seen before.

Sure enough, Leon was waiting for you patiently in your ‘little workshop’ as Cazador put it. He smiled at you warmly and pulled you into a hug. “Hello little one, I hope you made it back home okay.” You hugged him back, flinching when you heard faint footsteps of another servant.

“I actually had a great time, brother. Nothing like the thrill of the hunt,” you smiled softly. You both sat down on the sitting pillows Cazador had ‘gifted’ you after a particularly horrible one of his birthdays. You gently placed the wolf onto the floor and grabbed Leon’s hand. “Forgive me but… I must ask you something.”

Leon looked at you worriedly and stroked your hand with his thumb in a comforting gesture. “Ask away.” His hand stilled as more footsteps were heard. Despite the cold temperature of your undead body, the room felt hot and cramped with anxiety.

“This is going to sound so idiotic. Are true vampire mates, well, real?” At that, Leon let out a boisterous laugh in good humor for you.

“I never took you for one so interested in myths, little one. They are real but very rare,” Leon smiled sadly to himself, “It’s even more rare as a spawn, as you don’t just see many vampires strolling about.”

“How do they work?”

Leon smirked. “Why are you so curious? I’m the only person you speak to, and it is not me,” you punched his arm jokingly, “Afraid you’re tied to our dear old master?”

You pulled your hand away and looked around nervously. “I’m sorry… this is stupid. Somebody spoke to me while I was out and mentioned it. I was just curious.” If Leon could smell your newfound lover’s scent on you, he didn’t say. However, you could swear you saw the glimmer of a knowing grin.

“Well let’s see… I’ve heard you feel a tugging in your chest. Sort of like a rope pulling you towards your mate. You can begin to feel sick being away from them for too long, and you can feel their emotions through yourself. The bond is activated through biting one another’s wrist and drinking,” he pulled you close and stroked your hair. “Don’t worry. Our master is not your mate, you would know. Now, let’s try and get this vision out of the way so that you may get some rest, dear sister.”

You both jumped apart at Cazador’s entrance. He hissed lightly, and yanked Leon across the room away from you. When he was finished, he looked back at you and gave a wicked smile. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

Your head was still reeling as you placed the wolf onto the sacrificial table. Astarion was your mate. He was yours, and you were his. You hadn’t had something to cherish in so long. When he had nipped at your wrist the bond had felt tighter than ever— you wanted, needed to seal it. You lifted your dagger and sliced through the torso, reaching your other hand into the entrails and searching for anything. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

Cazador’s hand came to rest tenderly on your shoulder, stroking the collarbone below. You fought the nausea. “You will acquire 6 spawn, keep your current power, and the deal will be successful. There will be bloodshed, but you will acquire Lady Jannath’s estate.” He came down to lick at the puncture wounds in your neck, noticing when you flinched away in disgust.

“Very well done pet. I will go to Lady Jannath’s estate tomorrow. You will be rewarded with food, access to castle grounds only, and the greatest gift of getting lost in me. Completely.” He saw the sickened twist of your features and compelled you to stand. “Well my treasure, let’s get you clean and fed. Bid Leon goodnight and we shall get on to more interesting things.” Your limbs jolted into motion as you were compelled to walk to Leon and hug him. Your body screamed internally as you marched down the hallway to Cazador’s personal quarters.

You woke up in Cazador’s massive bed, your core aching in sickening pain. You touched the new bruises left on your hips and hissed. The nausea built up inside you till bursting, and you leaned to the side and wretched. The bond in your chest gave an earnest tug, as if telling you to hold in there. You clutched at your chest and heaved, tears breaking into the corners of your eyes.

One of the servants, Lilia, entered his quarters and tugged you into a navy blue, silky and flowy dress. Only the best for my cherished pet, you recalled with a scowl. The top layer of your hair was placed into a masterful braid so that the bruises and bite marks on your chest would be clear for everyone to see. Lilia didn’t seem to notice the mess on the floor or care, simply leaving to fetch a rag and a bucket of water.

You sat back down on the bed and looked at your hands. Cazador never let you roam the castle, too worried the other spawn would jump at your throat and take his best tool away from him. You supposed you could spend your day with Leon, letting him lead you to parts of the castle you’d never seen. But what about Astarion? You wondered if he was in the castle, and if you might even get to see him. Your heart would have fluttered if it could.

As you walked around the castle, the more you saw the more confused you got. You only ever saw your workshop, your quarters and Cazador’s, and the dungeon. It was like a labyrinth, continuously spiraling with no destination in sight. After wandering around for long enough, you saw a placard that read ‘Dormitory’. Not really knowing what to do in these situations, you anxiously knocked on the door.

Dalyria answered, her eyes widening when she took you in. “A new sister? Please, come in, and you won’t have to knock once you get more used to the space. We all sleep here,” she smiled and stepped aside. Your chest lurched forward as you made eye contact with Astarion, who hastily put his book down at his side and walked towards you.

“I’m not new I just… don’t get around much,” you mumbled, only looking at Astarion, who had a soft and dopey smile on his face with round and softened eyes.

“Oh, well, who are you then? How long have you been here? Are you our masters new mistress?” Dalyria rapid fired questions at you, and you were beginning to feel dazed, not ready for this much interaction. Astarion quietly hissed at the thought of you being anyone’s mistress and placed his hand on Dalyria’s shoulder.

“Come now Dal, look at the poor woman you’ve feeble minded her!” He looked back to you and his eyes were round and soft again. “What can I help you with my lady?”

“I’ve just… uh… come to find Leon. The castle is quite big and I’ve already gotten lost.” You looked to the floor, suddenly feeling awkward for being in Astarion and the other spawns’ only semblance of private space. He took your hand and inconspicuously squeezed it.

“Wrong bedroom, my dear. Let me show you to the favored spawn quarters.” The end of his sentence had a mocking tone— it was obvious Cazador had sewn inequality and contempt between the others. Your chest tugged at the thought that Astarion was basically living in squalor compared to you.

“Astarion why are you being so…nice? You never speak this well to us or even the master, brother.” He scoffed and squeezed your hand again, scowling over her.

“Bite me for having a little fun,” he rolled his eyes and turned to smile at you genuinely, “Shall we darling?”

As soon as the door to the dormitory closed his lips were pressed gingerly to yours, sucking your bottom lip with fervor and rubbing soothing circles into your hips. You couldn’t care less about the aches as you pressed into him further, tangling your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. He pulled away and kept his hand at your lower back, gazing into your wine red eyes lovingly. “I’ve been waiting to see you my sweet,” he whispered.

“It’s been but a day,” you chuckled and shoved your face into his shoulder. There it was again— bergamot, rosemary, and brandy. You wished you could drown in his scent. He put his nose into your hair and breathed in, smelling fresh roses and vanilla. He hummed in your embrace, feeling healed from the torture he had received from Cazador last night.

“You really must see Leon? Darling, I want you all to myself for the night. We also have our privileges while that big brute is out.”

You huffed, looking around for any prying eyes. “I’m not even supposed to know who you are, Star. Or even Dalyria for that matter. Even if he isn’t here, Godey is. Leon is,” you looked back to him, and the lovesick look on his face made you want to whimper. “Oh fine. An hour or two in the gardens shouldn’t hurt. Lead the way,” you whispered excitedly.

“Star. I like that,” he whispered back, wrapping his arm softly around your waist and leading you to the gardens, his eyes never once leaving your beauty.

It had been around 5 hours since that moment. You and your lover gazed at the stars and pointed out constellations, you found the roses Cazador had used to craft your perfume (Astarion was quite displeased with that), and now you were exploring each other.

“What would you say you love Astarion?” You tapped your fingers on his chest as you laid against him. He huffed out a pitiful laugh.

“I can’t say I love much since being here, but I would say cats, reading, a good vintage, making fun of Petras’s poor copy of my hair.” You quietly laughed. “And what would you say you love darling?”

You buzzed with warmth at the nickname. “Hmm… it’s a tough one when you’re cooped up like I am. Perhaps owl bears, embroidery, this garden is pretty nice, and pranking Leon.” He pinched your side and heartily laughed.

“You nefarious little thing you! I’ve always thought owl bears were a bit beastly, but aren’t we all.” As the banter died down, you couldn’t help but just stare at him. He was superhuman levels of beautiful. You didn’t know what you looked like, but you guessed it was a fraction compared to him. You reached out and rested your hand on his cheek, and he leaned into the touch.

“I spoke to Leon about true mates,” you spoke barely above a whisper. Astarion’s eyes widened and his smile dropped. He softly moved you off of him and turned to sit in the grass facing you.

“I see. I completely understand if you don’t want this, I’m not the best person and learning to love can surely be a tough road especially for me so I can always de-“ he gasped as you pressed a kiss to his lips, eagerly kissing back once he realized he wasn’t being rejected. You pulled away and grabbed his wrist, tracing the veins with your thumb.

“You’re the only person who has genuinely cared for me in 350 years. I’ve waited for you since the first day I was turned, and now that I have you I don’t think I can let you go. Astarion I… I want to seal the bond.” He gasped and both of your chests lurched towards each other, the bond yanking at even the suggestion.

“Are you sure you want this?” He gestured between you. “Are you sure you want… us? We can’t take it back once it’s done, we will be essentially inseparable. Are you ready?” He clenched your hands anxiously in his own.

“It is what I want and I’m ready, if you’ll have me.” You smiled softly.

“Well lover, it is I you shall have.” He lifted your wrist to his mouth, his fangs ghosting over your skin causing shivers to run down your spine. He looked up to your eyes for your consent and you nodded. He bit down, and the pain went almost completely ignored as your chest felt full of warmth, the bond reaching out towards Astarion, almost pulling your body forward. He drank one gulp of your blood, minding that you got as much blood as him on a good day. He lapped at the wound until it stopped bleeding and leaned up to press a bloody kiss to your cheek, leaving a red mark.

You gently took his wrist and looked to him for reassurance. He smiled tenderly and nodded. You bit down and the warmth and smoky sweetness of Astarion flooded through your veins, making your heart flutter for the first time in centuries. Your bond wrapped around his, making you feel completely connected to him. You carried the same gesture of making sure the wound was closed, pressing kisses to his wrist and lapping up the final drops of blood, then you leaned back up to look at him.

Blood covered both of your mouths and you giggled softly at the look. Astarion let out his own chuckle, bringing you back to his chest and kissing you deeply. “My love, you are what I live for now. I will make it through every dark day to see your face once again,” he whispered, stroking away the stray tear that had fallen down your cheek.

You both jumped as you heard scrambling through the bushes. Leon shouted your name in worry. “Thank god I finally found you I was so con..” his voice trailed off as he saw the two scared lovers, covered in their own blood with two permanent marks on their wrist— their bond sealed for eternity. His jaw dropped to the ground and he pulled you up by the arm, to which you let out a weak cry.

Astarion growled at the sight of someone manhandling his mate. He stood up and took your other hand, looking angrily into Leon’s eyes in warning for him to back off. Leon let your hand go with a defeated sigh.

“Astarion, go to the dormitory. Cazador will have your head on a platter if you aren’t there now,” Leon bellowed. “And you, little one, are coming with me. We need to discuss a couple of things.” Astarion reluctantly let go and backed away as Leon dragged you back to your quarters, already feeling the anxiousness and sickness of not being near his mate. When he finally got to his bed, he felt the bond give a loving squeeze, and he clutched his chest as he looked up at the shabby ceiling, worried he would never see you again.

Taglist:

@amefuyuu, @simpytheshrimpy69, @savagemickey03, @axolotl-of-evil

#astarion x reader #baldurs gate 3 #fanfic #astarion ancunin #18+ content #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 #18+ only #soulmates #alternate universe #angst #fluff #slow burn