Resisting The Urge To Get The BG3 Mod For Stardew Valley Because I Have ~responsibilities~ And Simply

Astarion and Vanity

Spoilers for all of Astarion’s story through all acts of BG3. As always, this is just my interpretation and thoughts on the character from what I know, so feel free to disagree.

I feel that Astarion’s expression of vanity is a part of him that gets misread a lot. It’s something that is pointed to as one of his negative traits as though this vanity of his is sincere. Personally, I think his outward obsession with his own looks and charm is anything but shallow, and is yet another example of how his life experience and trauma has shaped him. 

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder (ha), and for the sake of this mild analysis, I’m going to be defining beauty as conventional physical attractiveness. The main point is that Astarion in-game is treated as being very attractive, so that’s how I will treat him in this conversation. Beauty can be a form of power; one Astarion was very clearly blessed with. While all the main companions in the game are designed to be rather attractive, for Astarion, this goes beyond simply wanting to appeal to the player and is not incidental. In my opinion, Astarion’s looks are crucial to his character. 

To briefly summarize what we all know about Astarion, he was thoroughly and systematically stripped of his autonomy and identity by Cazador. He was forced to adopt an incredibly narrow worldview of essentially: power = freedom = safety (simplified, of course). Throughout the game, he makes choices that slowly shape and are shaped by the man he’s becoming. By the end of the spawn route, he’s still only just beginning to really discover himself. This all is crucial to the heart of his character and influences all his actions. 

Given his hollow sense of identity, Astarion clings to certain traits which he parades around, making sure everyone knows these things about him. The most prominent of those traits being hedonism, sadism, selfishness, and vanity. In this post, I’m going to be focusing on the last item, though I do have a post on learned cruelty that delves into the trait of sadism in the context of his identity. The pattern here is that these traits are masks that serve to make him feel in-control of both himself and those around him. 

While Astarion may seem terribly vain, his appearance to others is actually a very deep-seated, sensitive issue that genuinely affects him. The infamous mirror scene may come across to some as him being shallow, at first, but really he’s right in what he said; his reflection is just one more thing that was taken from him, and it’s completely fair that he is angry and grieves. But this is also significant to him beyond the fact of its injustice, or the symbolism of reflection as identity. Let’s dive a little into his psyche, and guess at how he sees himself and the world: He’s spent the past 200 years being valued exclusively for his ability to bring back prey for Cazador and perform sexually. This equates to his charm and his body. After two centuries of being degraded and stripped of everything, and only ever getting any kind of positive reinforcement, praise, or acknowledgement for your looks and seductiveness, of course he’d begin unconsciously tying his sense of self-worth to his appearance. By Cazador, he was turned into a tool and a toy. By his targets, he was objectified. Dehumanized from both sides in different ways, and again, only valued for his body and whatever sweet words he could spin. This leaves him with his self-worth very profoundly tied to his appearance to others, as I said.

I imagine he had two main types of targets when under Cazador’s thrall: starry-eyed, naive folks who were swept off their feet, and more predatory characters who took advantage of an easy offer. The former were probably the only source of genuine positive attention he ever got for those 200 years, even if it was shallow. Since he cannot find self-affirmation by looking into a mirror, he finds new mirrors in the eyes of those who look upon him. His beauty is reflected in their hunger, their lust, their admiration, their bashfulness, their envy. Is it any wonder that now he flaunts himself, always making comments about how good he looks? If he doesn’t get an affirmative response, then at least it's his way of reassuring himself. Telling himself that he’s still valuable in the only way he knows how to assess his value. “I don’t need a reflection to know this looks fabulous”, he tells himself. This is why he makes so many seemingly vain comments. Why he’s so concerned with being done-up and looking good. Why he has spent so much time mending his clothes so he looks every bit the part of the dashing elven rogue. 

Speaking of his clothes, this is another way he’s clinging to his autonomy and identity even through all his years of torment. His clothes were probably one of the only things he was ever allowed to have. When you have so little, of course you’ll care for it, hence why the flavor text  for both his shirt and armor mention how his clothes are worn, but have been repaired many times by a careful hand. During those years under Cazador, it probably brought him a small sense of control to be able to mend and embroider his own clothes; the only things which he felt belonged to him, more so than his own body. Something familiar that gave him a sense of security and self. (This is why I adore the idea of him becoming a tailor after the story, because it's giving him a healthy outlet of personal expression and creating something that's entirely his own. Hobbies can be crucial to cultivating one's identity and self-esteem, and we all want that for him). Not to mention that Cazador probably would not have taken kindly to his spawn not looking their best, and that's probably a "rule" Astarion carried with him even into freedom.

I think the mirror scene is a lot more than him just seeking validation and showing us a glimpse into this part of his mind, though. It’s also about him genuinely trying to evaluate how the player character sees him, and shows how he’s trying to figure out his new identity in freedom, but that’s its own discussion for another time. I just think that it’s unfair for people to call him vain or shallow for caring about his reflection and appearance so much, when that’s all he was ever taught to value in himself.

 The only other significant way we see Astarion valuing himself is through his skills as a rogue, with his constant cocky comments about how easy it is for him. While this too is a form of external validation born of valuing himself for what he can do rather than what he is, it’s still a positive thing for him. The game doesn’t really address all this, but in my mind, him getting to make use of his skills and be valued as a part of a group that needs him is probably really good for his self-esteem at this point in his life. 

All of this to say, I don’t think it’s fair to cast judgement on him for being “vain”, given everything we know about him. There is a big difference between him and someone who genuinely sees the world through a shallow and judgmental lens. For him, his mask of vanity is a symptom of his pain and twisted worldview rather than something rotten born of privilege and a superiority complex. His self-aggrandizement is a necessary part of the narrative he’s building for himself: the vampire spawn who would ascend. Again, desperate to convince himself and those around him that he both wants and deserves this, even as his crooked worldview is being chipped away by genuine kindness and connection. This understanding of his mind shows why it’s so important to him that we see and love him for who he actually is, not just his charm and beauty. His heart is beautiful in an entirely different way that outshines his physical features, even if he himself doesn't see it. The hope is that, with his friends and perhaps partner at his side, he’ll learn to value himself for his own heart and soul; for the person he’s becoming as he gathers up the pieces of his identity. To see the light he holds within him that endured those centuries of darkness. Until the mirrors stop mattering.

Literally my exact thoughts

„Astarion ending as the Vampire Ascendant is the correct ending for him, because it is what he wants.”

That is a claim I’ve been seeing pop up more and more often these days. And I think it’s both a very bold and a very odd claim to make.

But first things first: Hello, I’m a licensed social worker! So far, I’ve worked with children, refugees and youths with behavioural issues stemming from bullying and or abuse.

Please be aware that I will be mentioning different kinds of abuse, coping mechanisms, and victim/abuser relationships. If any of this is difficult for you, don’t force yourself through it. My jabbering about a traumatised vampire is not worth your wellbeing, not ever.

I will, however try to stick to Astarion and not use other examples. If, in any case, I do use a non-Astarion example, I’ll add a warning beforehand so that you can skip the part. And I’ll make it clear what will be discussed in the next bit, so that you have a chance to skip it entirely.

This is an effort to make this as accessible as possible for everyone that wants to indulge on a mad woman’s rambling – and I know there’s a few people that like this sort of stuff!

And, uh, there's obviously spoilers for all three acts. Serious spoilers, even.

Before I can get into the whole ‘why Astarion didn’t really want to ascend,’ we need to understand him a little more. And to understand this pretty boy’s brain, we first need to understand the gist of what we’re talking about when we throw around the word ‘abuse.’

“Abuse” is when someone is treated with cruelty, violence, or neglect – often to bad effect – on a regular basis. Repetitively. Check’s out for Astarion, I’d say, but we all knew that already. I mean, if one thing was obvious, it was this.

1. Astarions Abuse

Next we need to look at what kind of abuse Astarion faced over his long years of torment, seeing as different types of abuse will have different effects on the victim.

Not that that is anything we have to worry about with him – Astarion won the abuse lottery, to put it bluntly. In a horrible game of fate, he got everything. He himself indirectly mentions all the types of abuse he faced, albeit never using the correct terms.

The first we properly notice – fitting, seeing as it is often the most obvious form of abuse – is the physical abuse. Astarions scars are probably the biggest tell Larian could shove down our throats, only underlined by Astarion’s tale about the night itself. About how Cazador ‘misspelled something’ every time he flinched or screamed and had to do ‘many corrections. On top of this, Cazador locked Astarion up for months on end and tortured him – or had him tortured – on a regular basis both as a rite and as a punishment.

Next up, we have the fact that Astarion was forced to basically prostitute himself repeatedly. This is what we call sexual exploitation.

“I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master.” – Act 2

Two hundred years is a long time, filled with great many people. Now, we don’t know how many of those people actually tapped into the sexual exploitation and how many he could just lure back with other means, but the fact that it happened a lot is undeniable.

Next we have a form of abuse that we often disregard in adults: Neglect. It sounds odd, I know, saying that a fully grown adult was neglected. They can care for themselves, can they not?

Well. Yes and no.

Adult neglect is proceeded by the condition that one adult has to lean on another adult to fulfil their needs for whatever reason. This could be anything, from disability to income-based issues.  

Seeing as Astarion had absolutely nothing, while Cazador had everything, we can assume this was the case. Cazador had the house, the money, the power. Astarion owns but one pair of clothes, assumedly, that he has fixes over and over again. Fair to say, that’s pretty neglectful. (And it’s one more reason to shower the guy in pretty armour and camp clothes. Go ham, people.)

Last we have the form of abuse we actually get to witness later in the game – emotional abuse.

Once again, it’s undeniable that this happened. Especially since we’re all seeing it in the flesh upon meeting Cazador in his crypt.

“Have you no respect for yourself?”

“I strove for perfection in all things. Even those as imperfect as you.”

“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.”

“A pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything.”

All Act 3, Crypt

Here we have just a few examples of things Cazador throws in his face. It’s like reading a textbook on emotional abuse, this one (and it’s definitely a reason to throw hands).

Blaming the victim, keeping their sense of self and their self-worth as tiny as possible to make them cower and flee. A true classic.

This pretty much shows that Astarion suffered all forms of abuse we commonly see and it is implied – once again by Astarion himself – that at least a few of those instances were ritualistic.

Now, what does that mean exactly? Well, I fear I need to use a real example here, so please skip the next paragraph.

Ritualistic doesn’t refer to a proper ritual – it can, but that’s mostly a thing for those in a cult. So, we’re not necessarily talking about a ‘Vampire Ascendent Ritual’. A husband, beating his wife every evening after his third bottle of beer is also called ritual abuse. It happens regularly. It is part of a routine. Both parties know what will happen.

I can’t find the exact quote, so I’m working of my memory here, but at one point he said that when Cazador invited him to eat and he said yes, he would be served a putrid rat. If he said no, he’d be beaten.

The way it was phrased made it clear that it happened more than once and that Astarion clearly knew what would happen. So, this can be classified as ritualistic abuse.

2. A Note on Conditioning and Compliance

By default, abuse victims are conditioned to behave a certain way or in a certain fashion. This is a natural response to avoid further abuse.

In Astarion, the thing we see most often is his inherent need to please. Not literally, he doesn’t mind being an arsehole. But he initially feels the need to follow Tav’s orders, even if they go against his own wishes.

This can be clearly seen in the conversation with Araj Oblodra. Astarion very clearly doesn’t want to bite her. He doesn’t. But he will do so, if Tav tells him to. This behaviour is not conscious – he doesn’t know why he does it, he just does – and it is to be expected. This is how he kept himself save for two centuries, so of course he will fall back into his usual pattern when the pressure is high.

This goes hand in hand with the fact that most abuse victims don’t fight. Maybe initially, but not after long term abuse. Especially not after two fucking centuries.

This is true in Astarion – offered by his ‘siblings’ during act 3 and unhappily acquiesced by the man himself. Astarion stopped fighting and, once again implied, cowered, and did as he was told in order to survive.

3. The Astarion we know and love

Obviously, all that abuse does have an impact on our vampire boyfriend. He shows various common signs of abuse and just like with the forms of abuse, Astarion raked every coping mechanism he could find. (Not really, but it feels like it.) It’s also important to note that nearly all of the following things happen inwardly. Astarion is not one of the victims, that tries to rationalise and minimise the actions of his abuser. Quite the opposite, actually.

I’ll note from the beginning, that rationalisation will not be covered in this bit, as most examples will be important later on. But he definitely does it.

One of his biggest skills is to hide every ounce of fear or hurt behind sarcasm and snarky theatrics. He doesn’t seem to hide his anger much, though, so that’s something! Our boy is cool with anger, not so much with being afraid.

“Ahahaha, now that you mention it….I might have done…that.” – Act 3, regarding the Gur children

“The thing that will decide my fate forever more? Yeees, it’s been on my miiiind. Why?” – Act 2, regarding the Ritual

And there’s many more instances that prove this. Honestly, half his dialogue is sarcasm, so it would really be too long to get into and we all know what I mean, right? We have alltalked to the guy before. It’s obvious that he’s sarcastic to a fault.

This goes hand in hand with his penchant for defensiveness. I would personally state that he’s simply not really good with guilt. When talking about fear, he usually just opts for sarcasm or avoids the topic completely, but guilt especially has his defences going up. This is also when he’s most likely to shove all the blame off to Cazador.

“Don’t look at me like that. Cazadors orders.” – Act 3, Crypt

“I just did what I had to!” – Act 3, Crypt

And don’t get me wrong, he does that anyway. And with good reason. Astarion didn’t have a choice for the most part, but he’s still easy to shove things off.

This kind of connects to his penchant for denial.

Astarion doesn’t really like to talk about most things. He firmly believes he is an ‘action’ sort of person that just does instead of plans, which invertedly just means he’s great at pushing the thinking stuff away. He also likes to get rid of stuff, so that he doesn’t need to face it ever again.

“I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.” – Act 3, about the children

And yes, this partly rings true. He’s probably ashamed and doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s done. But it’s also very clear that he himself simply doesn’t want to face his own actions, something that is just  underlined by his extreme willingness to red rid of the other spawn.

As mentioned by Astarion himself, he’s big on manipulation. I mean, I don’t think there is much explaining necessary. The guy is willing to do a whole lot in order to get what he desires – which mostly revolves around safety and survival, to be honest – and he’s not really shy about it either. And that’s despite the fact that he doesn’t really like intimacy – especially in form of sex.

It’s not a secret that Astarion is not big on sex and anything surrounding it. This goes far enough for people to consider him either ace or ace coded.

A claim that, personally, I’m not super in line with.

Now, it’s not entirely wrong and if this is your head cannon I’m surely not going to stand in your way – but on a larger spectrum, I think he’s more traumatised than ace. And while those go hand in hand sometimes, it’s a bit difficult for the ace community if you attach traumatised characters to them because it can fuel a whole lot of stigma that is honestly neither needed nor wanted. But I digress!

If it comes to his own behaviour, he’s great at minimising his mistakes. Honestly, he’s a master of minimisation. A very obvious and famous example would be:

“’Killed’ feels like a…strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour.” – Act 1, after killing Tav

Astarion. You literally sucked poor Tav dry and left them flopping around, cold, and dead. Killed is exactly the right word and we all know it.

“Quite the deviation from my usual routine. Capture, not lure. I didn’t bring them in with sweet rolls or anything.” – Act 3, Gur Children

This is another attempt at minimising what he did, if a bit less obvious because at this point there isn’t much he can say. But at least he didn’t sexualise the gur children, right? They’re still spawn but whoo, at least that didn’t happen.  

The next point would be dissociation, which is extremely common in abuse victims – of all forms of abuse.

Astarion himself mentioned certain moments that could be classified as dissociation over course of the story, which is probably the coping mechanism I personally expected the most.

The pale elf has a penchant for violence, but he’s not entirely shameless or abhorrently vile, which gets clearer the more the story progresses. So, two hundred years of forced prostitution, torture and doing whatever other horrible things? Yeah, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t dissociate.

Examples of that would be:

“A moment of disgust to push myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.” – Act 2, after Araj

“I felt nothing the moment I handed them over.” – Act 3, Gur Children

“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” – Act 1, Tav after Sex

The latter is generally more of an assumption than actual prove, but with context it does make sense.

The last common sign of abuse we find in our boyfriend would be his low self-worth. It’s a consistent trait that stays over the course of all three acts, noticeable in many different conversations.

We can see it in his reaction to wanting to break up before finishing his story. We can see it in his genuine surprise when Tav picks him over any of the other characters. We see it in his insecurity whenever Tav asks to sleep with another character. He’s fine with it, but he still worries their decision to sleep with someone else is based on something he did.

It eases up ever so slightly after Cazador is dead, but even then he’s still struggling which is once again perfectly illustrated if you try to break up with him.

“Oh shit. I- Did I do something wrong?”

That is the first thing he asks and I think it speaks for itself. He genuinely doesn’t believe he has much to offer and for Astarion, it’s likely that Astarion will always be the problem.

4. "Oh, I tried them all none of them answered.”

Another big thing that’s important to note, is that Astarion was never saved. No one came to save him from Cazador. There was no darling boy on a white steed riding into that castle to rescue him and princess carry him away. Not even the gods answered his desperate calls.

So, he never received any kindness or luck. To him, the world seems as cruel and horrid as before because he didn’t have the chance to experience goodness in two centuries.

But worse than that, he didn’t even get to save himself. Astarion didn’t stand up to Cazador, he didn’t run out of his own might.

He was beaten to near death and ‘saved’ by Cazador, who would become his abuser.

He tried to save someone and, in turn, was locked up and starved for an entire year.

He was abducted by mind flayers, i.e., saved from Cazador, only to end up tadpoled and on the cusp of getting a fancy, squiddy beard.

Anything that’s good, any kindness, any selfless action…it all came with a ginormous price tag.

5. Over the Course of the Story

Astarions behaviour changes a whole lot over the course of three acts – which is important once we talk about his quests climax – so let’s review what we’re working with!

Act 1 Astarion is guarded as fuck. The man has walls around him that are so high, even the gods can touch them.

A lot of his behaviour in act 1 revolves around staying save and staying liked. He lies, manipulates, and flutters his lashes in order to get what he wants and needs. Instead of asking, like Wyll, Karlach and Gale do, Astarion uses all he has to offer to get by. He is still very much in survival mode and tries to weasel his way through an unfamiliar situation with familiar methods.

On top of that, and most notably, he’s absolutely not fond of kindness or selflessness.

#I saved a child and now my boyfriend is mad

Here, we are most likely to gain disapproval for doing the decent thing – unless you sent him outside for a minute whenever you’re being a good person.

And I’d assume that this is because of two things.

First: The very traditional ‘Why not me?’

As I mentioned before, Astarion wasn’t saved. He hasn’t experienced kindness in a very long time so seeing that the world is literally filled with kind people is hurtful. Why didn’t anyone save him? Why was he left to his own devices for so long? Why should he care about others when it’s so clear that no one ever cared about him? No, dead to all of them. If he didn’t get it, neither will they.

“And what am I owed? What about the injustices I suffered? Am I not entitled to anything?” – Act 3, Crypt

“I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me too.” – Act 3, Crypt

And secondly is the fact that, as I mentioned, goodness always has a price. And it’s one most people won’t be willing to pay. That’s how his life has been, so why would theirs be different?

This is precisely why Astarion may disapprove of kind actions, but he mostly neither approves nor disapproves if Tav asks for payment. That’s just how the world works.

Once you venture out into act 2, after getting to know him a whole lot more, he starts to mellow a bit – if only towards Tav.

“He’s afraid, so afraid, of everyone but you, who she should fear the most.” – Sceleritas about Astarion

His approval is a lot easier to gain – or at least keep! – and he tends to approve of some more proper actions. He doesn’t throw a fit if you promise to find Mol, he approves of Tav being kind to His Majesty, of saving Aylin and he even approves of Durge apologising to Isobel after threatening to rip her to pieces.

He's slowly starting to open up, allowing Tav to see some parts of him he previously kept hidden. He accepts their offer to help, if hesitantly and, by god, the man starts experimenting with boundaries.

The social worker in me is shedding tears at this. It’s my favourite thing to see in my clients and it’s no different here. Yay to saying no!

Of course, it’s still a bit hit or miss. If Tav urges him to bite Araj, for example, he will only to later notice that he didn’t fucking have to. He recognises this on his own and he calls Tav out on it. Just like he calls them out on not helping him with his Orthon quest.

Good job, chap. Good fucking job.

And the growth-train won’t stop going even as we reach act 3.

In act 3, there’s not many things he disapproves as of right now – those he does, mostly have to do with how Tav treats him and not with anyone else. In fact, he’s more likely to approve good behaviour now, like giving Yenna food or money.

And yes, we need to consider that this could simply be because he gets used to Tav’s behaviour and just learns to roll with it. But it’s also highly likely that he notices that there’s truly good people around. At least one person. And that person is not only good, no, they’re in the process of helping him break free once and for all.

They’re helping him save himself.

By act 3, he has learned that he can absolutely say his piece where Tav is concerned and he’s more likely to disagree with them on certain things. It’s seen during a lot of small dialogue that he’s no longer terribly afraid to be honest with them, willing to listen and talk and he’ll ask for help if he needs it.

“I can do this. But I need your help.” – Act 3, Crypt

Something that can be viewed both positively and negatively is that he’s definitely loyal to a fault. He will stick by Tav’s side, no matter what.

“I really hoped we could avoid being pawns for a dark god, but here we are, I suppose. I’m with you, my dear, wherever this might lead.” – Act 3, After Jaheira confronts durge

As I said, this can be both positive and negative. On one count, it’s a recipe for disaster, seeing as he could be waltzing into a really bad situation for Tav alone.

But on the other side…this is a man who only cared about himself because that is the only person he could afford to care about. He needed to survive. He now has enough room to breathe and the capacity to care for someone else and I’d be inclined to count that as a good thing.

6. The Crypt

All the progress he made in act 2 and 3 is nearly tossed into the wind as soon as the crew enters Cazadors castle.

It’s not an immediate thing, of course.

At first, Astarion tries to stay light and simple and he hides behind flippant tones and relaxed faces. The way he recounts this is almost comically disinterested and the façade is actually quite good.

It’s start’s cracking after we meet Godie, one of the people who tortured him on more than one account, but he mostly manages to remain as upbeat as one can honestly expect for the first half of the journey.

All that, however, is done for the very moment we meet Sebastian. His mask not only slips, no, it full on shatters and there’s none of his apparent lightness left.

Which, of course it does.

The man is suddenly faced with years and years and years of victims. Innocent, unlucky people he lured back to his master over two centuries. People he liked, people he pitied.

“It’s sickening, seeing them again.”

It’s basically a room filled with guilt, exclusively for Astarion. And, as we mentioned before…Astarion is not great with guilt.

The guilt, however, is not where it ends.

No, he’s also faced with reflections of his own past. The spawn pose as reminders of what he did, sure, but also as reminders of what he was.

Weak, desperate, hungry.

There’s an abundance of images of his worst moments, reflected back at him in the thousands. It’s probably like staring into a funhouse mirror, but instead of seeing yourself in a funky way he just sees everything he so desperately doesn’t want to be.

“It should be [who I am]! I don’t want to be like them. They’re pathetic, horrible…”

He’s forcefully made aware of how darn weak he can be, which claws at all the wounds he’s barely had time to close. Something, he of course won’t admit if asked.

“THEY DO NOT [remind me of myself]. That weakness in me is dead, IT’S DEAD. I have a higher purpose.”

The high pressure of the moment brings out all of his act 1 traits in but a few moments. You can pretty much watch how he starts to shut down mid conversation, one of his old walls snapping back into place to remove himself from the situation.

Thing is though, walls usually become a bit brittle after disuse. Especially when talking to a person you don’t usually want to wall out.

Or, in his case, when talking to Tav.

After meeting Sebastian, Astarion shows extreme reactions to Tav nudging any of his weak spots. His reaction varies on whatever choice you make, but it ranges from aggression to defensiveness, to denial and even to downright begging Tav.

“Don’t hate me. I just did what I had to. I swear I did what I had to.”

This probably the most shocking out of all of them, since that is not something we got to witness before. The begging is likely a mixture of intense fear of losing Tav, his low self-esteem and pre-Tav behaviour, since we can assume that Cazador made him beg more than once.

Another old coat he puts back on would also be the least surprising of them all.

Manipulation.

He falls right back into it, using Tav’s affection to get what he want if we trigger the right action.

“If they die and I ascend, I won't have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I'll be free. Truly completely free. Isn't that what you want?”

This, to me, was probably the biggest tell that Astarion was back in survival mode. He’s panicking, for fucks sake, and who can blame the guy? He’s back. He’s about to face down his abuser.

Of course he’s fucking panicking.

Panic leads to an increased craving for safety and, in his case, power. This is why he clings to Tav, why he begs them to love him still. And this is why he jumps head first into the rationalisation pool.

“I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual. - [You can save them.] – What’s the point? They're as good as dead! I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. […] They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”

Another textbook example.

They must die anyway. They’re basically dead. No need to save them now. They’re dangerous, I’m doing the right thing by sacrificing them. I already thought they were dead, so it’s not changing anything for me. They’re a lost cause and I deserve  all this power. I deserve it, because I suffered and nothing will change if they die.

So, seeing as we already spoke about his usual behaviour in act 3 – behaviour he showed after we allowed him to breathe and be himself for a while – I think we can fairly easily conclude he’s not thinking straight.

Astarion is right back in survival mode, where all that matters is he himself. If it weren’t for the seven thousand spawns, he might have moved through this more gracefully, but seeing those tipped the scales and Astarion is absolutely losing it.

Remember that for the last section, per favore.

7. The Ascension

“Astarion wants to ascend and Tav manipulates him into doing what they want.”

That is basically the essence of what people often claim and I can’t help but shake my head at such a blatant disregard of everything he has become. This is completely ignoring the change and growth he has gone through over the course of their journey.

Astarion wants to be free. He wants to be safe. That does not mean he wants to ascend.

And the claim that Tav manipulates him into doing anything is even more baffling. We are all aware that Tav is not manipulative by nature, yes? That is entirely on you. You decide who your Tav is.

And then let’s remember: Astarion is panicked. He’s afraid and he’s not thinking straight. His abuser is on his knees before him and he still feels so weak. And there’s seven thousand spawns that need handling.

Astarion is very much not okay right now.

In fact, reading his thoughts just proves this theory.

“You can see the fear in his eyes but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything. To be anything.”

Tav, however, has none of those problems. They can actually see beyond the current situation and they are fully aware what the consequences are. Astarion is not. As we previously established, Astarion is a doer. Not a thinker. He didn’t think this through, not at all.

The only thing Tav is doing – the persuasion roll – is reminding him of the very real consequences he is facing. The consequences he hasn’t thought about before.

"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

And that is the kindest thing Tav could do in this situation. They’re not bodily dragging him away from Cazador. They’re not even telling him to not do it. They’re just offering him the truth. He can do with that information whatever he desires.

“Astarion cries when he doesn’t ascend, that just shows that it was the wrong choice.”

A hare-brained point that I thankfully have only seen once so far.

That crying? That is healthy crying.

That is him, crumbling under the stress that suddenly dissipates. That is him mourning two hundred years of torment. That’s him letting out feelings he hasn’t been able to for centuries.

And, for the love of god, try to put yourself in his shoes.

Two hundred years of torment, ended in but a moment.

Astarion was abused and tortured for so long, afraid for so long only to see his tormentor die just like that.

Cazador died within a moment and all Astarion needed was a darn blade. Of course he fucking cries.

Seeing how pathetic a being the very core of your life’s misery actually is hurts. It hurts like hell because not only are you finally free – free! – no, you’re faced with the fact that this pile of nothing, the thing that’s bleeding out right in front of you…this was what tortured for so long.

This thing hurt you so much. That guy took everything from you, everything you once were, and broke it again and again and again over years.

You were so scared of this thing.

And yet he has the gall and the gumption to die just like that.

It was so easy.

And yet you suffered for so long.

8. Evil Playthrough?

An evil playthrough is really a different setting altogether.

All of this, as you can probably tell, is really only applicable on a good playthrough. Realistically speaking. I’m not sure how the game mechanics handle it.

On an evil path, Astarion never really gets to experience kindness and goodness. Evil Tav will just prove him right in his believe that the world is a vile and cold place, meaning that he realistically would be more inclined to actually want to ascend.

9. Final Conclusion

I think all of this should be enough to make it clear that no, ascended Astarion is not the best ending for the guy. In fact, it is probably the worst. Because it’s just him, running away. He’s running into a lonely and cold state of being, where cruelty and power lord over everything else and he’s running because he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’s running despite desperately wanting to stop running.

“I'll spend the rest of my life running watching the shadows, never feeling safe…no, this has to happen. Here and now.”

And, the worst part is: Nothing about Astarion is left after he ascends. Even his tone of speaking gradually changes, his theatrics fading. He’s slowly losing himself, until there’s nothing but an evil caricature left.

So, in the end, ascension will have proven him right.

That version of him is dead.

BG3 has rotten my brain so much that this color palate makes me emotional help

iykyk

Do plushies count as fanart? Anyway I made a replica of the puppy plushie from Violet Evergarden.

The idea of Astarion being a magistrate is so funny to me because the Astarion we know today would NOT be professional about it. He'd be scoffing and rolling his eyes at people and making snarky comments about their crimes before sending them to the dungeons every time. The man would not keep his opinions to himself.

Stealing Moments of Comfort – complete fic

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relantionships: Astarion & Tav, Astarion / Tav

Additional tags: Angst, emotional hurt/comfort, friendship/love, nebularomanticism, banter, character study, relantionship study, autistic Tav, sensory sensitivity, overstimulation, implied/referenced self-harm, self-esteem issues, loneliness, childhood memories, (some nice some not so much), canon-typical violence, (but only described in flashbacks), spoilers for Act 3 (Baldur's Gate 3), Astarion is trying his best, Yae is also trying his best

Summary: Running into Petras and Dalyria in the flophouse proved to be a tense experience. Now Yae and Astarion both worry about the future and their ambiguous, unexplored relationship, weighing the possibility of turning into an illithid or ascending. Yae suffers from overstimulation; Astarion comes to comfort him, convinced it’s the last warm moment they share.

Read on AO3 or under the cut.

⊱✿⊰

I… did it, I guess.

I have written and published my first fanfic. Which is a lot, given my complicated relantionship with the skill known as finishing, and the fact I dropped writing almost ten years ago and only picked it up again recently.

Thanks to everyone who liked and commented on my wip snippets, for every little bit of encouragement. I know I needed it.

Shout out to @thekindredcollective and their BG3 Spring Cleaning event for giving me the push to finish it sooner than later.

Stealing Moments of Comfort

We are a team, aren’t we? You’re still with me?  – Astarion to Tav, Act 3

⊱✿⊰

Putting a tent up so close to others was a matter of practicality: it ensured safety. And, well, maybe companionship had become a welcome thing during all the travels and adventures together. But tonight? Seated by a small table, Astarion glanced at an empty mirror placed among other clutter, wishing he could disappear – just like his reflection had two centuries ago.

And that silly ragged owlbear plush Yae had put on a cushion next to the tent’s entrance. The serious Yae, who barely ever cracked a joke, for some unfathomable reason found it amusing. At this very moment, Astarion regretted not throwing the toy away – because even the stuffed animal seemed to regard him with contempt. The worn beady eyes whispered: You’re pathetic.

Angry, the elf unscrewed a jar of preserved blood. So easy for others to judge him! He hadn’t really hurt Petras, the idiot’s face would heal eventually – unless the wretched fool would get sacrificed first, in which case it didn’t matter anyway, right?

Righteous chumps and their double standards.

Astarion remembered the moment he’d held the other spawn to the golden light filtering through dusty window panes. The thrill of being in control, of being feared instead of fearful. The cloying scent of undead flesh turning to ash. Dal begging him to stop and the knowledge – oh, the knowledge – he had the power to do however he pleased…

And then Yae had spoiled it all.

Frustrated, the rogue slammed his forehead against the table, and raked all ten fingers through his silvery curls. 

I, um… Well, the way they swirl around your ears. I like it, Yae’s half-bashful, half-nonchalant voice rang in his mind. Gods, please, there couldn’t possibly be a worse moment to remember how the warlock had offered to be Astarion’s mirror. The initial hesitation, then a quick barrage of words, all in fear otherwise the thought would remain unspoken.

The vampire felt like he was looking into hundreds of broken shards – all of them empty to match his hollow self. But the reflection in Yae’s eyes? It was his only one, yet just another lie, conjured up beyond his control. Once Yae saw through the illusion, he would definitely ditch Astarion.

And it was probably going to happen tonight.

⊱✿⊰

Yae wished his head wouldn’t hurt so badly, as if someone was trying to gouge his eyeballs out. He wished the light of the flames flickering in the center of the camp wouldn’t be so painfully bright, threatening to send him reeling whenever he looked directly at it. He wished Karlach’s hearty laughter, as she entertained Wyll with one more anecdote about her time under Zariel, wouldn’t ring in his ears like a sheet of metal struck with a rod. 

Shadowheart’s herbal tea left a bitter aftertaste on the warlock’s tongue. He sighed and emptied the bronze cup in one swig. Blah. No matter how thoughtful she had tried to be, the medicine probably wasn’t going to help. He only drank it to make her feel better. 

Yae rummaged through the contents of the chest, huffing in exasperation. Where had he put that damned sleep mask? All he really wanted right now was to lie down in his tent, wrap himself in a blanket, cut off as much stimuli as possible and try to forget all the misery.

A soft clink, grating to his oversensitive hearing, made the half-elf wince. His hand had knocked against something smooth and cool. With furrowed brow, Yae pulled out a glass jar with the Emperor’s astral tadpole in it. Oh, right. He had almost forgotten about the little parasite. It writhed languidly in the vessel. Even now, he could sense its profound loneliness, and a twinge of sympathy coursed through him. There were times when he felt like he was being stored away in a glass jar, too, prevented from truly connecting with other sentient beings.

Was this why the thought of potentially turning into an illithid didn’t frighten him as much as it disturbed others? Or why he had felt so safe and comfortable while visiting the myconid colony? Because a sense of belonging was woven directly into those creatures’ very nature?

Yae flopped down onto the dirt from a squat, settling into a cross-legged position. Pensive, he watched the listless tadpole swim about its prison.

At first, he had been ready to accept the Emperor’s offer. It was such an incredible opportunity, he would have learned so much, gained insights beyond normal people’s understanding. And in exchange for what? The body he had never been particularly fond of? This imperfect vessel, prone to headaches and sensory overloads? Or his “remarkable” personality and lack of social skills – qualities that seemed to put off everyone around? Yae’s patron didn’t show disapproval, so honestly, the choice appeared obvious.

And yet.

I want you to stay you. 

It wasn’t Lae’zel’s or Wyll’s strong convictions that made Yae waver, nor Shadowheart’s vehement protests. They didn’t understand, didn’t want to undergo the change, and it was fine.

No. It was Astarion’s acceptance, and the concern that followed, that made the warlock shelve the idea – almost literally. The vampire, as loath as he proved to use the tadpole himself, never tried to dissuade Yae from embracing illithid powers; he turned out to be the only person in the entire camp who encouraged the other man to make his own choice. 

But do be careful.

Yae groaned and bent slightly as if from physical pain. He wished he could repay Astarion in kind. He wished he could just say: “Sure, go ahead, do the ritual if it’ll make you happy”. But he couldn’t – and despised himself for it. Deep inside, he was certain he’d lose Astarion and hated his own inability to let the vampire go. 

Yae raised the glass jar to his eyes again. Behind the faint reflection of his grey irises floated the translucent creature. That’s it, he thought. If Astarion ascends, it’s all over. If he does, I’m taking the tadpole.

⊱✿⊰

Astarion hated many things in existence, and waiting idly for a bad event to occur was one of them. No, he should take control and face the inevitable on his own terms – better to get it over with than count the hours. He only needed Yae to bear with him for a little longer; once he ascended, he would be happy to go his separate way, just–

Well, perhaps “happy” was an overstatement.

Astarion stood up, ready to wield his preferred set of weapons: charms and smiles. He swallowed the feeling of disgust and sauntered towards the center of the camp.

“Shadowheart, dear.” It almost scared him how easy it was to adopt a playful tone. “Have you perchance seen Yae?”

“You two just can’t stay away from each other, can you?” the not-exactly-cleric-of-Shar teased the vampire as she shifted her grip on an uncorked bottle of Amnian Dessert Wine. “I have, in fact. He came to me feeling bad, so I gave him some herbs. He said he was going to sleep early.”

“Feeling bad?”

Shadowheart sighed.

“You know. Overstimulated.”

Yes, Astarion knew.

⊱✿⊰

The crunch of dirt under careful footsteps warned Yae someone was approaching even before he heard the lilting “darling, it’s me” and the rustle of the tent’s flap. 

“Do you mind?” the half-elf snapped from between the covers. “You’re letting light in!”

“Yes, yes, just give me a second–” The flap swished back down. “You know, sometimes I could swear you’re the vampire in this relationship. Don’t you have your blindfold, excuse me, sleep mask on?”

“So? It doesn’t fit perfectly. There’s a tiny slit,” Yae grumbled and shifted in his bedroll – not to face the visitor, but to bury himself deeper in the blankets. People always found it hard to believe just how sensitive he could be. “What do you want?”

Astarion’s cocky façade didn’t crumble one bit. Still, something about the other man’s frail state ruffled him. He didn’t want to see Yae suffer; he needed to see him strong. He knew for certain his friend wasn’t weak – the power he wielded against enemies! And yet…

Astarion pushed the intrusive thoughts aside.

“Honestly, you surprise me,” the words carried a very precise weight of nonchalance. “You always act like you’re the only person with an intact brain inside your pretty head, and yet when you feel sick, all you do is wrap that silly cloth over your face and hide away from the world.” Another sound followed the rogue’s words, a more dry and crinkly one, like… a sheet of parchment? Yae huffed.

“Oh, I have pursued many solutions already, both preternatural and mundane. I even dared to ask my patron to show some clemency, but the magic they grant me isn’t exactly of curative nature.”

“Patron-shmatron,” Astarion snorted. “The powers don’t care about the well-being of their subjects, I thought you already knew that. But speaking of magic – have you talked to Gale?”

“Yes.” Yae sighed. He realized the vampire wanted to help, but the underlying suggestion – even if not deliberate – that he hadn’t tried hard enough to resolve the matter still annoyed him. “He proposed casting Leomund’s Tiny Hut and filling it with darkness. The problem is, I can’t work the spell myself, and if he does, he’d be stuck with me for several hours, which is… far from ideal.”

“Is it? Say a word, and I’ll drag him here and tie him to a pole,” Astarion offered with mock gallantry mixed with a drop of sultriness. “Of all the people in this group one could share a tent with, he’s not the worst choice.”

Yae groaned.

“No!”

The vampire let out a snicker. Right, the grumpy little pet wasn’t a fan of suggestive jokes. Now probably even less than ever.

“Apologies.” The sick half-elf couldn’t see it, but he was certain Astarion flashed him a not-so-repentant smile. “On second thought, maybe it’s not such a brilliant idea. I mean, you two would probably get lost in some incredibly boring, unnecessarily convoluted arcane dispute and you’d forget entirely about my existence.”

The unconvinced hum from between the blankets clearly indicated Yae doubted if the feat was ever possible.

Astarion glanced at the yellowed parchment he had “borrowed” from the group’s shared supplies.

“Why not cast Darkness around yourself, though?”

“I don’t have any magic left. And it’s better to save the scroll in case we need to use it against enemies.”

“Nonsense. You need it now.” He sat down next to the bedroll. “Take that stupid rag off your face. Cast the spell.”

“It’s only several minutes, it’s a waste of the scroll,” Yae protested.

“It’s several minutes of respite, for gods’ sake! Just do it!”

“Fine, fine, just keep it down, will you? Ugh…”

The warlock untangled from the covers and pushed the sleep mask up to his forehead. He then took the parchment from Astarion. Once the words of power filled the air, shadows clotted and amassed, obscuring the inside of the tent in an almost suffocating blackness. Even gifted with darkvision, the two men were unable to pierce it. Yae sighed; to him the pristine darkness proved so soothing. 

Astarion tried not to think how much the tent now resembled a tomb. At least there were two people in it, he reassured himself; as if to prove that point, he sought out Yae’s hand. It jerked at the unexpected touch, but didn’t shy away.

If only it wasn’t the last time they held hands like this… Even so, Astarion would treasure the memory.

For the next few moments, they just sat, a layer of darkness like a shroud upon them. Eventually the magic faded; the light of the campfire and torches once again danced on the tent’s canvas, shining through. Yae dropped onto his back, letting go of the cold fingers, and slung one arm over his eyes.

“You were right.” To his surprise, Astarion’s voice sounded disheartened. “It was pointless.”

“No, I–” He suddenly felt like an ingrate. “You were right. It was nice, if brief. Thank you.”

The vampire lay down on his side next to the warlock and propped his head on an elbow.

“No matter how many scrolls I lift from careless wizards and foolish nobles, it won’t be enough. An inefficient solution is no solution at all.” If only I had the power to protect you.

“I still appreciate it,” Yae muttered from under his elbow.

“Me wasting resources?” Astarion forced some of his stylemark tease into the words.

“Yeah. You wasting resources on me.”

“It was irrational. You haven’t forgotten you hate it when people act irrational, right?”

“It was thoughtful. Even I can see that.”

“Come now, don’t try to make me feel good.”

“No, really. It’s not your fault all spells are designed as if someone had a very complex dragonchess ruleset in mind.”

This finally drew a chuckle from Astarion.

“You’ve noticed that? Horrendous when it comes to practical, everyday purposes.”

Yae didn’t respond. Despite the fatigue, his spirits lifted a bit as well; the shadow of today’s events cleared in his mind, like a dispelled magical effect. Well, maybe it didn’t withdraw completely. The memory of the acrid smell that had filled the flophouse’s small common room still lingered in the corners of the man’s psyche. It threatened to spring to the fore should he concentrate on it too much, to coat his tongue again, to worsen the already bad headache. But at least for now, he had the strength to ignore it. Wasn’t it nice to just enjoy Astarion’s company in comfortable silence instead?

“I’m a scum.”

Yae started as his friend’s voice brought him back. It took a few seconds for the words to register. Something didn’t add up. 

“Where does this one come from?”

“Can’t you see? I’m doing it again. I’m acting nice because there is something I want to talk about and I’m trying to soften you up.”

The tiniest of smiles formed on the half-elf’s lips. Astarion no doubt believed what he’d just said; his voice had that distinctive, almost anxious tinge.

It is true that brains generally prefer simple explanations – but Yae was never quite satisfied until he had a chance to take a thing apart and understand every minute detail of its inner workings. The reason given rang true, but he didn’t think it was the only, or even the most important one. It took almost all his willpower to not immediately open his mouth and argue. But by now he knew that in return he’d only get a snarky comment about being a smartass.

“Well, at least you’re not trying to seduce me anymore, so I’d still say that’s a step up.”

Astarion scowled.

“As a former magistrate, I swear, someone should immediately revoke your smartass license.”

Oh, well. He got called a smartass anyway.

“Yeah, right, just tell me already why I should hate you so I can tell you why I’m not going to.”

Despite the circumstances, Yae’s dry response did bring Astarion a little comfort. Which, somehow, also made things worse.

“Nice things just don’t last, do they? They are meant to be… fleeting.” The vampire paused. That wasn’t how he’d rehearsed the lines. Gods, after two hundred years of honing his casual, disinterested tone, he should be able to use it at will, like a street magician casting Dancing Lights for the amusement of the crowd. Instead, wistfulness crept into his words, but he wasn’t some teary-eyed puppy, damn it! Astarion clicked his tongue and pressed on. “When we started to get along… I immediately began to wonder how long it would take for us to stop.”

“Yeah. Me too,” whispered Yae.

The red eyes flicked in his direction, filled with disbelief.

“Really?”

“Really.” All of a sudden, the warlock felt immeasurably tired, and it had nothing to do with the headache or overstimulation. “It happens every time. Whenever I meet someone interesting and start thinking there might be a connection. I’m too weird for normal people and too normal for weird people.” He sighed. “Sorry. You were talking. I cut in.”

Despite the uneasiness, Astarion chuckled.

“I don’t know, I rather dig your brand of ’weird’.” And that’s the problem. “Look. I know what you think. You dislike that I fried Petras’s nose a little. I promise you, the fool won’t suffer any permanent damage.” Here came the defensiveness again. Once more, the vampire tried to quickly don his favoured armour of nonchalance – not a shining one, but tarnished with bitterness. “Well, it had to happen someday, right? You had to realize I’m not a person you want to keep around. I don’t blame you. I’m not going to try and convince you to change your mind. You’ve already shown me plenty of patience. But– if you’d only let me stick around for–”

“What are you talking about?”

“Tsk, come on!” The pale elf’s voice thrummed with frustration. Was Yae feigning ignorance on purpose? “I saw the look on your face! When I asked if we’re still a team, you didn’t even bother to reply! You avoided me for the rest of the day!” The words just… spilled, an almost accusatory tide instead of a graceful flow. Astarion pressed his mouth into a tight line.

“Oh, by the gods.” That was exactly why Yae hated all sorts of social interaction – no, why he feared them. So many assumptions. People invariably digging for hidden meanings. “I was unable to say anything! I– I needed time to myself! You know I always need time!” Vexed, he fidgeted with a ring on his finger – a perfectly mundane object with some simple etchings, made of three interlocking bands of metal. Of course the entire situation boiled down to him doing or not doing something, not having the correct expression, not showing the expected reaction, needing to process things. And now his voice was cracking while blood thumped in his ears – and he hated it with all his heart, because you shouldn’t show such intense emotions, Yae, it’s unprofessional and makes people uncomfortable.

Exhaustion and shame enveloped him like the pungent smoke – sticking to him just like the smell had stuck to hair, clothes and skin. Now he wished he could just cast Darkness again – to wrap himself in it safely, vanish, and possibly never return.

The uneasy silence that followed suddenly made both men aware of other, more distant sounds. Scratch barked happily, and the owlbear cub hooted back at him. Someone laughed. Was it Halsin? Probably. The sound had that warm, growly undertone.

“Just say I’m a cruel, horrible person, a monster, and let’s have it out of our way.” If only Astarion could run away from the mixture of desperation and defeat that burned in his chest. Wasn’t it what he wanted all along? For people to believe he was strong, intimidating, ruthless? He had tried hard to cultivate that image, but never once anticipated there could be a time when he’d regret others seeing him this way.

Another howl of throaty laughter echoed through the camp. What was the term Halsin had once mentioned to Astarion? “Deimatic behaviour”?

Yae’s head throbbed. He covered his eyes with open palms, trying to stop them from popping out of the sockets. Most of the time he felt utterly unequipped to deal with his own life, with all the setbacks and problems – and no matter how much he wanted to be there for Astarion, he simply lacked the energy. The half-elf’s brain spluttered and nearly came to a halt like a malfunctioning Gondian clockwork – its favoured reaction in stressful situations, to just shut off. For the past few hours, he had gone through numerous versions of this conversation. In his mind, he knew exactly how to say all the right things. He was kind, understanding, wise – and, most importantly, able to offer Astarion precisely the words the vampire needed to hear.

Right now Yae’s head was as empty as a patriar’s promise.

And yet, something stirred in the petrified mindscape. Something alien that had in the last few weeks become intimately familiar, a part of himself. 

Yae’s tadpole gently brushed against the creature nestled in Astarion’s brain. The vampire suppressed the urge to shrink back, realising the immaterial caress wasn’t an intrusion, but an invitation. Almost a plea.

Let me in. Otherwise I don’t know how to express myself.

Astarion’s nostrils flared. Why couldn’t Yae just talk like a normal person? 

The brief spike of irritation died out as quickly as it had occurred. If Yae could, he would. There had been times when Astarion was so starved he lost the ability to speak, hadn’t there? He glanced at the other man with compassion he rarely allowed himself to show, and let the tadpoles swirl together, establishing a connection.

Yae sighed; his confidence surged. 

Usually, social interactions were so… confusing. He remembered playing Three-Dragon Ante with his older brother for the first time. Zenith didn’t explain the rules beforehand, stating that Yae would learn “as they went”. This discouraged the younger boy from the start, and the whole experience turned rather frustrating, with Zenith proving to be a messy teacher, mentioning various options in a rather haphazard way. Talking to other people posed an even greater challenge – you had to constantly keep guessing what the unwritten rules were, and those tended to change without warning, while others acted like they expected you to read their minds.

Well, actually reading minds was wonderful. Direct, raw, complex yet clear. With this, Yae could work.

So, is your parasite bothering my parasite because you wanted me to know you’re terrible at cards?

Hilarious, the warlock thought back. But gods, didn’t it feel good to uncork and be able to communicate again. He kept the connection unintrusive, just skimming over the surface of whatever Astarion was willing to share. As he calmed down, the sense of peace sipped into the vampire’s mind as well, and they non-verbally conveyed bits of what had troubled them today – just enough to notice how similar their fears and worries were.

You do sometimes feel like a mirror, Astarion’s thought was uncharacteristically quiet, bashful.

Yae took an audible breath.

“You’re not a monster,” he whispered. The physicality of the sound felt so out of place. “And even if you are, I don’t really care.” It was true. No matter how tempting it would be, he didn’t want some idealised version of Astarion. He wanted the real person. “You’re a friend. Yes, I’m worried sick – quite literally – not because of you, but about you.”

“You don’t want me gone?” 

“No. I’m sorry I didn’t say so immediately. Sometimes I’m dumb like this.”

Reassured, Astarion withdrew from the mental connection. The vampire didn’t hate it – and it was kind of adorable how elated it made Yae – but right now he wanted some privacy, at least in his own head. The two parasites twirled together for the last time before gently untangling.

Yae stared at the faint outline of the tent’s ceiling for a few more moments, bracing himself. He recalled again how Astarion had encouraged him to make his own choice regarding the special tadpole. It really was the time to repay the kindness.

“Astarion… I just wanted to make it clear. Once we face Cazador… Whatever you decide, your fate will be in your own hands.”

Astarion let out a loud exhale. Good. Oh gods, good. He wanted freedom. Above all, he wanted to be his own person. And it felt so validating Yae recognised this. 

The worst part, though, was that deep inside the unconditional acceptance chipped the vampire’s resolve to steal the ritual for himself.

Astarion shook his head. He shifted to face Yae more fully – as much as the cramped space allowed – and focused on something nice instead. At least he hoped it was nice.

“Friends.” He tasted the word. “You seem pretty attached to the idea. Not that I don’t like it,” he added quickly, “quite the contrary… but…”

He trailed off, suddenly uncertain if he really wanted to broach the subject. Not knowing was so nice, after all. And one serious talk was more than enough for tonight.

Yae thought back to his life before he had been kidnapped by illithids and infested with a tadpole; before he had moved to Baldur’s Gate; even before he had reached out to his patron and formed a pact. The tired poetic cliché would dictate it felt like a lifetime ago. If only memories had become a nice, gentle haze; if only the past would turn into a vault full of precious personal mythology. But the images danced in his mind, sharp – and while some weren’t unpleasant, those he’d rather forget burned the brightest.

The first one seemed innocent, happy even: a young boy, scrawny and awkward, perusing through his father’s magical tomes stored safely in a cozy, elegant library. Behind the window, the charming alleys of the Evereskan residential area soaked up the sun, the polished cobblestones almost glowing. The view reminded the boy of an oil painting – pretty, marked with a touch of gravity.

The thick aroma of special inks mixed with distinct scents of paper, vellum and papyrus, and the dusty undertone always made his nose tingle. Whenever he grew weary of reading, he would spend time contemplating the leather bindings, tracing embossings with his small fingers, staring at the marbled endpapers until he’d get dizzy.

It was a safe haven, away from the confusing demands of the world outside.

Inside the library no one made fun of his naivety. No one scolded him for being rude when he didn’t mean to be. No one ridiculed him for not being able to stay still. No one told him it was bad to show emotions. No one stared at the ugly bruise that lingered on his forehead, a mark from the time when, overwhelmed with frustration, he had banged his head against a wall. No one showed impatience at his silence, and no one sneered when he couldn’t stop talking about a treasured topic.

The books, even though full of power and magic, felt safe.

Xan of the Greycloaks encouraged those studies. A rather consummate pessimist, he would have, for once, been somewhat proud if his son had become a wizard like him. Perhaps he was trying to spare the boy at least some of existence’s misery; and perhaps he honestly didn’t realise his child had at some point decided all attempts at connecting with others were simply ill-fated and thus not worth the effort. 

It was certainly a blow when his son – for some unfathomable reason – chose a warlock’s vocation instead, but at least the father could find solace in the familiar, unmarred sense of impending doom.

The boy was an adult now and even though every day he feigned indifference, deep inside he hadn’t changed – deep inside, he still longed.

“I’ve always just wanted someone to be there,” Yae whispered into the darkness. Another picture sprouted in his mind: an adolescent version of himself, scared and wounded after a magical accident, reaching out to an eldritch entity precisely for this reason.

Astarion went quiet, letting the words sink in. 

Friends.

He smiled, remembering the shy kiss the other evening, on the bank of the River Chionthar.

Fine. He wasn’t going to argue about labels. He sat up.

“Alright. I’m going to get my bedroll.”

“What? Why would you–?”

“Because we’re doing a friendly sleepover. What did you think, you naughty boy?”

“I didn’t–!”

The vampire’s laughter rang in the air. The darkvision made the tent’s interior dull and grey, but he could imagine the lovely shade of rosy pink colouring Yae’s face. 

“Easy, darling. Should I also get that terrible owlbear plush?”

“Hey, the owlbear is cute!” Yae protested, but there was a hint of a smile in his voice now. Good.

“You must really be unwell. This is the first time I’ve heard you use the word ’cute’ willingly. Anyway, I’ll get a blanket, too. We’ll throw it over the tent to block off more light and sounds.”

“You’re going to smother me.”

“Possibly. If you’re into it.”

“What–? Argh, stop teasing me!”

“I’ll be back in a few!” Astarion left the tent before Yae could complain more.

As they were falling asleep, their fingers – deathly pale and light pink – hooked loosely, resembling the interlocking bands of Yae’s ring. Astarion wondered if things could really last, or if he’d simply stolen another moment of comfort. 

Or maybe those moments weren’t stolen at all. Maybe they were given freely.

Epilogue

A cry of anguish filled the blood-reeking air.

Yae slowly collapsed onto his knees. He didn’t touch Astarion, not knowing if the vampire wished for physical contact. Instead, he simply was there – a quiet, supporting presence. Astarion shuddered and sobbed; Yae felt his heart clench painfully.

“What do you need right now?”

“I don’t know. Let’s leave this cursed place.”

Later that evening, Yae browsed through his belongings. The jar was there, stuffed safely between layers of clothing. He plucked the little parasite out and held it at the eye-level. 

The small thing wriggled, begging for company. It just wanted someone to be there. 

Yae’s face twisted with sadness and guilt.

Emperor? Can you hear me? He took a deep breath. Please don’t be mad. If I don’t do it, the temptation will always be there. 

Swiftly, before doubt could wash his resolve away, the half-elf dropped the tiny creature to the ground and squashed it with his boot. It was yucky, like stepping on a slug. He winced at the sensation.

The loneliness was no more. 

With that, Yae went to find Astarion and see if there was anything he could offer his dearest, dearest friend.

I love the clip where Neil Newbon talks about how he wanted to make Astarion's laugh kind of abrasive or off-putting... because little does he know that just made him more endearing. Oops.

Often I wish I could do drawing or animation as fanart. All I can do is write and make silly little guys out of felt. Behold, the silly little guys!

He's such a silly goose 💚

[From the game's datamined dialogues, described as "voice barks for Astarion as the player interacts with the screen"]

[From the game's datamined dialogues]

Astarion says those lines when he helps your fallen character in battle (romanced and/or friend depending on the lines).

He may be half-joking here, or maybe not at all, but in any case, I find it interesting that he already calls himself a hero and saviour (even ironically) when he helps you. And it made me think a lot. (And maybe I'm overthinking all this but eh... the brain-rot is real).

Because, beyond the possible irony of those "hero/saviour” labels, it says something about the image he has of himself while your adventures unfolds.

During the Tieflings' party, he's quite loud about not enjoying being a hero. He wasn't particularly fond of the idea of saving the Grove in the first place anyway.

Same with the Gnomes in the forge, saving them isn't his priority, to say the least.

After all, why would he play the hero when no one, in 200 years, has ever even tried to save him. Neither heroes, nor gods.

So I was thinking about how Astarion came to realise that not only you care about him, but that he too cares enough about you to want to help/save you.

Does you adventures together slowly make him understand that he can save you, as much as you can save him?

After all, quite early in Act 1, you can tell him that you agree to watch each other's back.

And he approves.

I want to believe that this "deal" is the first step toward his acknowledgement: he can protect and get some protection. It starts as a kind of transaction, but gradually, it's not about mutual benefice anymore. After a while, he wants to help/protect, as much as you want to help/protect him, as friend or a lover.

And of course, it paves the way to the epilogue (spawn Astarion, not romanced). 

And it's beautiful.

He made it all the way from resenting heroes for not saving him, to becoming a hero himself - the kind of hero he decides to be.

And I am wondering... the fact that he can protect you, did it affect his own self-esteem? making him realise his own worth? As a fighter, but also as friend or a lover, as someone one can rely on...

Did it make him realise that he too can become his own hero, his own saviour?

That without Cazador's power over his body, he has everything in him to save himself?