Would You Still Love Me? (Astarion x Tav)
Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav
Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here
Summary: When you ask the question, 'would you still love me if I were a worm?' Astarion's response surprises you in more ways than one.
Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, silly goofy mood, act 3 unascended Astarion
Word count: ~1.7k
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You’re chatting with Astarion over dinner at the Elfsong when a question strikes you. It’s an odd one, and you’re not sure if you should ask it. Your curiosity builds as you consider Astarion’s possible answers though and, by the next lull in conversation, you can’t help yourself.
“Astarion?” you ask, spearing a potato on your plate.
The vampire swirls his wine glass, watching the red liquid fall into place before answering, “Yes, dear?”
“Would you still love me if I were a worm?” The question spills out of you, sounding even sillier than it did in your head.
Your lover blinks at you, as if he couldn’t possibly have heard that properly. But when your expression doesn’t change, your eye contact doesn’t drop, no admission of jest is to be seen, he finally says, “Darling, what kind of ludicrous question is that?”
“Well, would you?” you counter, pointing at him with your fork before popping the potato in your mouth.
His face grows pensive as he thinks. It’s a few seconds later before he asks a follow up question, “What type of worm?”
You finish chewing as you think of the worms you know. Not many admittedly– life in the city meant that free patches of earth are few and far between. So you answer the only worm that truly comes to mind, “The earthworm kind.”
“And I would know that it’s you?” he asks, leaning forward now. It seems like he’s invested in the question now, despite his initial reaction.
You nod, as if that’s a given. “Yes, you saw me transform.”
“Hells, I was hoping I could pretend not to know,” he says with a smirk.
“Wicked man,” you retort, shooting him a responding smile.
Astarion’s face looks thoughtful again as he considers the developing situation. “Could I turn you back?”
Now you shake your head vehemently. What use was the exercise if magic would fix you? “No, nothing could turn me back. I’m simply a worm from now on.”
“Hmm, and are you certain that you would love me?” He raises an eyebrow at you in challenge, as if he’s cornered you in your own mischievous little game.
“Of course,” you answer immediately. “I don’t think my little worm brain would be able to think of much else.”
“How sweet… I think,” he says, cocking his head. You suppose it is, though you had meant it as fact. “Well then, one final question, if you would?”
You nod, gesturing for him to continue with your fork. “Go ahead, I’m an open book. Or worm, in this case.”
“How long do worms live?”
You blink, having not expected such a question from him– and truthfully also due to not knowing the answer. “I don’t know. Maybe Halsin would?”
Astarion locates the druid, sitting a few tables away talking to Wyll and Karlach. He raises his voice to be overheard in the din of the tavern. “Halsin, be a dear, how long do earthworms live?”
“A fantastic question, Astarion!” The druid’s voice carries easily with excitement. “It truly depends on the conditions of the worm, but anywhere from a few years up to eight years.”
You balk at that fact. A worm can live how long?
“I’m happy to tell you all about ideal soil conditions–”
Astarion cuts the man off with a loud, “Thank you!” Then he turns back to you. “Well, there you have it.”
“Have what?” you ask in response, confused at the turn in conversation.
“You would live at most eight years. I’m immortal, my love. I think I can manage less than a decade of loving a worm,” he says, rolling his eyes at you.
You’re not sure how to take the casual way that he speaks of your impending wormy death, but you find it oddly comforting to know that he would in fact still love you. You honestly hadn't expected that. “So you’d keep me around? Made sure I stayed healthy and safe?”
He nods, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Naturally.”
You can’t help but laugh at the idea of him keeping you as a pet worm. It seems almost unbelievable. “You wouldn’t throw me into the nearest patch of dirt? Or worse yet, let a bird take me?”
“Gods below, dear,” Astarion responds, aghast, putting a hand over his heart as if he’s been truly, deeply offended. “I would never.” Then he gets a far off look in his eyes and adds, “Well, maybe never. I suppose it depends on if I needed you as bait. But I’m certain I would be able to rescue you after the fact.”
“I would allow it,” you say, with a short nod. “If you’re using me as bait, it’s likely for good reason.”
"And after you pass? I would miss you terribly of course," he says solemnly, with his most maudlin, tragic expression.
"You'd better. And I expect the best soil for my burial," you say, pointing your fork at him threateningly.
“Of course, darling,” he says, only the hint of his smile visible from behind his wine glass. He takes a sip and looks at you again. “Now, why would you ask such a thing?”
You shrug, entirely convinced it was just a passing thought. But, as you poke and prod at your food, you find yourself answering, “I don’t know. What if, before this all ends, something happens to me. I already come with my own scars and problems, gods know how much worse it can get.”
Astarion stares at you over his wine glass, processing what you've just said before responding, "My love, believe it or not, I'm a vampire. I have 'scars and problems' of my own. If you think that anything could happen to you that I wouldn't be able to handle, you'd be sorely mistaken."
You hadn't expected him to say such words so sincerely, and you find yourself a bit taken aback. You love each other, you'd said as much on the night Astarion had been freed from Cazador, but it still feels a bit intimidating to know how deep that love could run. Apparently earthworm deep.
The idea that this man, who would rather bathe in blood than touch an inch of dirt, would continue to love you? Well, despite the inane premise, you find the warmth in your heart to feel very real.
"What about you, darling?" he asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. "If I were to become a worm, what would you do?"
You answer quickly, "Easy. I would still love you, probably keep you on my person, and offer you blood or other sustenance when you need it."
Astarion looks at you aghast. "Sweet hells, do not put me in your pocket."
"And why not? I would be extremely careful, and then I would never lose you," you respond, explaining yourself logically. "Besides, even as a worm, who knows what kind of trouble you'd get yourself into."
"I should be saying that to you," he says, placing his wine glass on the table, serious now. "I can't believe you would put me in danger like that. I fully expect you to place me somewhere nice, like the lawn of some pampered Upper City noble."
You think about his proposition for a second before shaking your head. "But then I couldn't take care of you. What if you get stepped on?"
Astarion considers your counterargument with narrowed eyes. “Ugh, fine. I shall stay in your pocket. But I expect you to clean it regularly. And I demand that you get a new lining for it. Silk, preferably.”
“Easy enough to do,” you say, nodding along. “You would be most comfortable worm this side of the Chionthar.”
At that, the man looks pleased, picks his wine glass back up, and reclines back in his seat. “Good. And, for what it’s worth, I'm sure you would make a very cute worm.”
You’re not sure if that’s meant to be a compliment or an insult, but you suspect it’s the former. “Thank you,” you say, smiling at your lover. “You would make a dashing worm yourself.”
“Are you both expecting to turn into worms any time soon?” you hear from behind you. You turn around to see Halsin standing tall over you. His tone is friendly, warm as he continues, “I would be happy to take care of either of you.”
You can’t help the blush of embarrassment that comes over your face. You’re also not sure how to take the words. Is he asking to adopt you both, as worms? Gods, how did you end up here… So you look back to Astarion who is now shooting you a look that says, Now look what you’ve done.
“Err, no Halsin. It was just an odd little conversation we were having. Sorry to cause you any confusion.”
“No need to apologize, my friend,” he replies. “Though if you ever do need help, you know where to find me.” He gives you both an affectionate smile before heading off.
While it’s nice to know that others would care enough to take care of you as a worm, you’d meant the question to be solely for Astarion. You’re left burying your face in your hands to hide your shame.
“So, darling… what did we learn?”
“To never ask Halsin about earthworms,” you mumble through your fingers.
Astarion gives you a ‘tsk’ before responding. “No, my dear. If either of us turns into a worm, we must hide that fact from Halsin." He scrunches his nose in distaste before continuing, "I refuse to live in whatever healthy soil he’s found for us.”
You snort at Astarion’s conclusion, but still find yourself agreeing. “Fair enough. Better yet, let’s try to keep ourselves at the very least bipedal.”
The two of you share a laugh, but in the back of your mind you’re already thinking of your next question. I wonder if he would still love me if I were a mimic? I suppose there’s only one way to find out.
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