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1character2025-12-26 05:34 am
mayfic) wrote in 1character2025-12-26 05:34 am
Astarion, Then and Now
Character: Astarion
Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3
Theme set: Gamma
Rating: M
Warnings: References to rape, abuse and violence. Basically Astarion backstory-typical things
1. Snow white, blood red…a scarlet flower blooming in the cold, a glacier shattered and wet - they remember him as an outline, a sensation, a colour, and he barely remembers them at all.
2. “Oh, child,” Cazador said, a click under his tongue and Astarion, through the haze of pain and the choking thickness of blood, grabbed at Cazador’s pale hands and the hems of his fine trousers and begged to be reborn.
3. The first time Astarion crosses a threshold uninvited, the bricks seem to want to move in until he’s crushed and squeezed back outside in pieces; he talks and titters until the sensation stops.
4. In the house of Szarr, there were laws Astarion didn’t know and laws he couldn’t disobey; Cazador didn’t offer loopholes, and the terms were whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
5. Shadowheart gifts him with some bonecaps - odious, shrivelled things too infused with corpse rot and grave stink to be edible - and Astarion is ready to be offended until she shows him how they make a decent poison once ground up.
6. Godey was some ancient thing that Cazador dredged up from gods knew where and Astarion wondered how those yellow bones would crumble and snap, though at least those skeletal fingers were never a cruel parody of a lover’s touch.
7. They end up in a routine - Astarion uses his well-honed perception and sense of danger to locate traps and waves everyone back out of the way so that he can get to work without them traipsing around like ungainly cart horses, setting things off left and right.
8. “...And here he is, my little star,” wheedled Cazador to his patriar guests, who ate up his pretty, coiffed little pet with their eyes; Astarion kept his face neutral, swallowing bile.
9. The shadows and ghosts of the cursed darkness have lost themselves over years spent dead; they are old, but Astarion is older still, and doesn’t remember enough of himself to know how much he’s lost.
10. Dalyria, once a physician general, used bandages and ointments and whatever else she could find or make without Cazador noticing to treat their wounds - it was a reprieve, but even still Astarion wondered how easily the two of them would betray each other.
11. Astarion, skin like lustered pearls under the moonlight, steps out from between the trees to greet his next would-be lover - their eyes are dark with alcohol and lust, and in a little while he’ll be sure of their protection.
12. Sometimes, Astarion only needed to linger outside, so that some unlucky patron would catch sight of his pale face through the tavern windows and leave to follow him on some promise.
13. The merest knowledge of Wyll’s contract makes something rusty click and whirr in the back of Astarion’s mind and he wants to dig it up and use it, but Wyll just smiles regretfully - he can’t.
14. Buttons could be slowly, tantalizingly undone, or they could be torn off with feverish passion, and Astarion had honed the smile he gave afterwards at yet more flesh to be pressed against his.
15. In empty houses, in abandoned rooms, in Cazador’s palace, Astarion throws open wardrobe doors to find finely brocaded jackets, elegant gowns and vibrant wools; never again will he be burdened with the upkeep of a few scant clothes.
16. More than once, Astarion tried to remain in the city and meet the dawn; sometimes, his skin would begin to crackle and turn to ash before his feet took him inside and not of his own volition.
17. One of the strangest things about being here, within this ragged group, are the feelings that Astarion cannot discern the shape of; he looks for their edges, their shape, and how they’re changed and shifted by the people he’s allowed to know.
18. There were many parts of the palace where the spawn were not allowed to go, not even when they’d been good; Astarion had done his best, though, to investigate any winding staircase or locked door he could.
19. It turns out, Wyll has known all along, and that makes sense when Astarion thinks about it: Gale is clever, but not terribly sharp, Karlach has spent so long around devils that the subtleties of vampirism slip her notice, Lae’zel is from another plane entirely and Shadowheart is probably so used to pale, deathly things she probably could have never twigged a thing.
20. Astarion often made them come to him; hungry eyes followed him around the tavern, and he chose one to coyly glance at, before leaving and letting them stalk him into the alleyway.
21. Skin, fat, muscle - After being violated by him in every way imaginable, it’s only right that Astarion knows just how Cazador’s innards cleave apart by the point of his blade.
22. “A sharp tongue,” said Cazador, gripping Astarion’s jaw and wrenching it open, “but luckily for you, you’ll be needing that tonight.”
23. Astarion gets used to eating as he wishes; even the smallest morsel, caught and eaten unconditionally, is enough to make him savour the moment.
24. Fine leather collars that covered up the scars left by Cazador’s teeth - they were for hiding their true selves when Cazador was entertaining the great and the good of Baldur’s Gate.
25. “It’s infernal,” says Karlach, and Astarion can feel her warmth on his naked back a few feet away, as she frowns in the mirror, “but I don’t know what it says.”
26. There wasn’t one part of Astarion that wasn’t printed with the memory of thousands of hands.
27. Astarion crawls out of his broken pod and cowers in the shade from the sunlight on both sides of the crash; he reaches out a hand, waiting to see his skin begin to crumble, but nothing happens.
28. Astarion found his newest target was a noble slumming it out in the Rat’s Run and decided to take him out into the alleyway, anyway.
29. It seems like most of the group is escaping something, their wounds raw and twitching, though Astarion feels like he’s the only one who can admit that this mindflayers heroes in some ironic, fucked up way.
30. Cazador liked to dig his fingers into Astarion’s hair, usually pulling on it or tugging him around by it, though sometimes he’d be queasily gentle, running his cold fingers through Astarion’s hair and stroking him as if he were an obedient pet.
31. With time, wounds heal, and Astarion could have that to himself, if nothing else.
32. Astarion watched Cazador ingratiate himself with other patriars, sitting before a bowl of sun-dappled paella as if he was a person and not a monster.
33. One’s burial shroud grows shabby and worn over centuries, and it’s the only fabric Astarion doesn’t fuss over for its wrinkles and holes.
34. Naturally, Astarion was asked to sit for many a portrait by artists who morosely nursed their ales until he walked past and their eyes lit up like they were thieves stumbling across a dragon hoard.
35. Vampiric hunger is a deep, gnawing ache, unlike anything a mortal might know, but at least Astarion is now allowed some kind of sustenance when he needs it.
36. Astarion’s eye colour was compared to many things by his would-be victims - cherries, ripe apples, a particularly vibrant sunset.
37. They find a wealth of reading materials on their journey; Astarion squirrels away a number of books, pamphlets and even some of the more salacious correspondence to entertain himself, later.
38. It was impossible to win with Cazador; the best Astarion could do was delay his punishment for a little while longer.
39. Astarion does not expect the numbness that settles in after Cazador’s death; he tells himself it’s the ebbing disappointment of never finishing the ritual but, in truth, there’s a bone-deep and soul-deep exhaustion that’s taken hold of him .
40. As Cazador’s second spawn, Astarion watched as the remaining five were brought in; he recognised that initial miasma of confusion and horror, but cared about it less and less as the years progressed.
41. At the tiefling party, the bard sings of them and their bravery and even sings of Astarion and his bravery, but this rankles - he should not exist in this space.
42. The chimes of the evening and the chimes of the morning signaled to Astarion that he needed to get moving; at first, it felt like a cruel reflection of his days at college.
43. Trancing at camp can be an odd experience, since the tadpoles lead to them sliding into each other’s dreams in surreal and ephemeral ways.
44. When Astarion begged the gods to help, nobody responded; even Corellon abandoned his people when they became forsaken.
45. Now that he’s not too starved to focus, Astarion’s elven affinity for magic resurfaces; he’s not good at it, but it’s fun to make lightning crackle from his fingers.
46. Astarion became very, very good at what he did, some techniques could drive a man to sobbing mindlessness.
47. It’s been a while since Astarion has been out of the city and, despite the freedom, he doesn’t relish sleeping in the dirt or bathing in rivers.
48. For a good few years into his time under Cazador’s thumb, Astarion still thought that there must be some kind of reprieve, that somebody, somewhere, would both discover what Cazador was doing and would be clear-eyed enough to see his spawn as the victims they were.
49. In the mindflayer’s pod, Astarion bangs against the glass and screams, because he can’t be trapped like this again, though he quiets as everything falls and breaks apart.
50. Astarion waited in the alleyway as the city roiled; Baldur’s Gate was never a quiet city, so Astarion paid it no mind until something shot out of the sky and his vision darkened before he could see what it was.
Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3
Theme set: Gamma
Rating: M
Warnings: References to rape, abuse and violence. Basically Astarion backstory-typical things
1. Snow white, blood red…a scarlet flower blooming in the cold, a glacier shattered and wet - they remember him as an outline, a sensation, a colour, and he barely remembers them at all.
2. “Oh, child,” Cazador said, a click under his tongue and Astarion, through the haze of pain and the choking thickness of blood, grabbed at Cazador’s pale hands and the hems of his fine trousers and begged to be reborn.
3. The first time Astarion crosses a threshold uninvited, the bricks seem to want to move in until he’s crushed and squeezed back outside in pieces; he talks and titters until the sensation stops.
4. In the house of Szarr, there were laws Astarion didn’t know and laws he couldn’t disobey; Cazador didn’t offer loopholes, and the terms were whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
5. Shadowheart gifts him with some bonecaps - odious, shrivelled things too infused with corpse rot and grave stink to be edible - and Astarion is ready to be offended until she shows him how they make a decent poison once ground up.
6. Godey was some ancient thing that Cazador dredged up from gods knew where and Astarion wondered how those yellow bones would crumble and snap, though at least those skeletal fingers were never a cruel parody of a lover’s touch.
7. They end up in a routine - Astarion uses his well-honed perception and sense of danger to locate traps and waves everyone back out of the way so that he can get to work without them traipsing around like ungainly cart horses, setting things off left and right.
8. “...And here he is, my little star,” wheedled Cazador to his patriar guests, who ate up his pretty, coiffed little pet with their eyes; Astarion kept his face neutral, swallowing bile.
9. The shadows and ghosts of the cursed darkness have lost themselves over years spent dead; they are old, but Astarion is older still, and doesn’t remember enough of himself to know how much he’s lost.
10. Dalyria, once a physician general, used bandages and ointments and whatever else she could find or make without Cazador noticing to treat their wounds - it was a reprieve, but even still Astarion wondered how easily the two of them would betray each other.
11. Astarion, skin like lustered pearls under the moonlight, steps out from between the trees to greet his next would-be lover - their eyes are dark with alcohol and lust, and in a little while he’ll be sure of their protection.
12. Sometimes, Astarion only needed to linger outside, so that some unlucky patron would catch sight of his pale face through the tavern windows and leave to follow him on some promise.
13. The merest knowledge of Wyll’s contract makes something rusty click and whirr in the back of Astarion’s mind and he wants to dig it up and use it, but Wyll just smiles regretfully - he can’t.
14. Buttons could be slowly, tantalizingly undone, or they could be torn off with feverish passion, and Astarion had honed the smile he gave afterwards at yet more flesh to be pressed against his.
15. In empty houses, in abandoned rooms, in Cazador’s palace, Astarion throws open wardrobe doors to find finely brocaded jackets, elegant gowns and vibrant wools; never again will he be burdened with the upkeep of a few scant clothes.
16. More than once, Astarion tried to remain in the city and meet the dawn; sometimes, his skin would begin to crackle and turn to ash before his feet took him inside and not of his own volition.
17. One of the strangest things about being here, within this ragged group, are the feelings that Astarion cannot discern the shape of; he looks for their edges, their shape, and how they’re changed and shifted by the people he’s allowed to know.
18. There were many parts of the palace where the spawn were not allowed to go, not even when they’d been good; Astarion had done his best, though, to investigate any winding staircase or locked door he could.
19. It turns out, Wyll has known all along, and that makes sense when Astarion thinks about it: Gale is clever, but not terribly sharp, Karlach has spent so long around devils that the subtleties of vampirism slip her notice, Lae’zel is from another plane entirely and Shadowheart is probably so used to pale, deathly things she probably could have never twigged a thing.
20. Astarion often made them come to him; hungry eyes followed him around the tavern, and he chose one to coyly glance at, before leaving and letting them stalk him into the alleyway.
21. Skin, fat, muscle - After being violated by him in every way imaginable, it’s only right that Astarion knows just how Cazador’s innards cleave apart by the point of his blade.
22. “A sharp tongue,” said Cazador, gripping Astarion’s jaw and wrenching it open, “but luckily for you, you’ll be needing that tonight.”
23. Astarion gets used to eating as he wishes; even the smallest morsel, caught and eaten unconditionally, is enough to make him savour the moment.
24. Fine leather collars that covered up the scars left by Cazador’s teeth - they were for hiding their true selves when Cazador was entertaining the great and the good of Baldur’s Gate.
25. “It’s infernal,” says Karlach, and Astarion can feel her warmth on his naked back a few feet away, as she frowns in the mirror, “but I don’t know what it says.”
26. There wasn’t one part of Astarion that wasn’t printed with the memory of thousands of hands.
27. Astarion crawls out of his broken pod and cowers in the shade from the sunlight on both sides of the crash; he reaches out a hand, waiting to see his skin begin to crumble, but nothing happens.
28. Astarion found his newest target was a noble slumming it out in the Rat’s Run and decided to take him out into the alleyway, anyway.
29. It seems like most of the group is escaping something, their wounds raw and twitching, though Astarion feels like he’s the only one who can admit that this mindflayers heroes in some ironic, fucked up way.
30. Cazador liked to dig his fingers into Astarion’s hair, usually pulling on it or tugging him around by it, though sometimes he’d be queasily gentle, running his cold fingers through Astarion’s hair and stroking him as if he were an obedient pet.
31. With time, wounds heal, and Astarion could have that to himself, if nothing else.
32. Astarion watched Cazador ingratiate himself with other patriars, sitting before a bowl of sun-dappled paella as if he was a person and not a monster.
33. One’s burial shroud grows shabby and worn over centuries, and it’s the only fabric Astarion doesn’t fuss over for its wrinkles and holes.
34. Naturally, Astarion was asked to sit for many a portrait by artists who morosely nursed their ales until he walked past and their eyes lit up like they were thieves stumbling across a dragon hoard.
35. Vampiric hunger is a deep, gnawing ache, unlike anything a mortal might know, but at least Astarion is now allowed some kind of sustenance when he needs it.
36. Astarion’s eye colour was compared to many things by his would-be victims - cherries, ripe apples, a particularly vibrant sunset.
37. They find a wealth of reading materials on their journey; Astarion squirrels away a number of books, pamphlets and even some of the more salacious correspondence to entertain himself, later.
38. It was impossible to win with Cazador; the best Astarion could do was delay his punishment for a little while longer.
39. Astarion does not expect the numbness that settles in after Cazador’s death; he tells himself it’s the ebbing disappointment of never finishing the ritual but, in truth, there’s a bone-deep and soul-deep exhaustion that’s taken hold of him .
40. As Cazador’s second spawn, Astarion watched as the remaining five were brought in; he recognised that initial miasma of confusion and horror, but cared about it less and less as the years progressed.
41. At the tiefling party, the bard sings of them and their bravery and even sings of Astarion and his bravery, but this rankles - he should not exist in this space.
42. The chimes of the evening and the chimes of the morning signaled to Astarion that he needed to get moving; at first, it felt like a cruel reflection of his days at college.
43. Trancing at camp can be an odd experience, since the tadpoles lead to them sliding into each other’s dreams in surreal and ephemeral ways.
44. When Astarion begged the gods to help, nobody responded; even Corellon abandoned his people when they became forsaken.
45. Now that he’s not too starved to focus, Astarion’s elven affinity for magic resurfaces; he’s not good at it, but it’s fun to make lightning crackle from his fingers.
46. Astarion became very, very good at what he did, some techniques could drive a man to sobbing mindlessness.
47. It’s been a while since Astarion has been out of the city and, despite the freedom, he doesn’t relish sleeping in the dirt or bathing in rivers.
48. For a good few years into his time under Cazador’s thumb, Astarion still thought that there must be some kind of reprieve, that somebody, somewhere, would both discover what Cazador was doing and would be clear-eyed enough to see his spawn as the victims they were.
49. In the mindflayer’s pod, Astarion bangs against the glass and screams, because he can’t be trapped like this again, though he quiets as everything falls and breaks apart.
50. Astarion waited in the alleyway as the city roiled; Baldur’s Gate was never a quiet city, so Astarion paid it no mind until something shot out of the sky and his vision darkened before he could see what it was.