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Astarion Ancunin - Blog Posts
Astarion’s simple plan
The Embrace of Love and Death, Chapter 5: Playing with Knives
Chapter summary: Lae’zel puts Astarion and Miss Fortune through the paces, training them relentlessly until they learn to work together better. Things get flirtatious between the rogues as they get to know each other better, and Shadowheart puts Miss Fortune on the spot to reveal their past.
Read the full chapter on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298/chapters/166716742
Excerpt:
“It’s time for the two of you to start warming up,” the warrior commanded as soon as she noticed Miss Fortune was done eating. There was no room for bargaining or arguing in her tone. “You will go to the clearing, you will stretch every muscle, do push-ups, sit-ups, and squats to exhaustion twice, and lastly you will run until I decide to come stop you. Then, I will train you until I am satisfied that you’ve learned the lesson at hand.”
Miss Fortune could hear Astarion complaining under his breath the whole way to the clearing, and when they arrived he turned on them with a huff.
“Why don’t you just leave me at camp to watch the cook pot?” He demanded, waving his hands wildly. “Why put us through all this just to keep me on the road with you?”
“Is that what you want? To stay in camp?” They asked as they began to stretch their arms and shoulders.
“Wha—I didn’t say that,” the vampire countered, beginning his own stretches. “It’s just, wouldn’t that be easier?”
“And miss out on your witty banter and gorgeous face all day? Doesn’t sound easier to me,” Miss Fortune grinned.
“Oh, well in that case…” Astarion feigned sheepishness, brushing a curl behind his pointy ear. “Glad to see someone around here has good taste.”
“And you would know after last night, wouldn’t you? How good my taste is?” Miss Fortune dropped to the ground to begin stretching the lower half of their body. They chanced a quick glance up at the vampire and noticed an almost imperceptible shudder of ecstasy as he presumably recalled the taste of their blood. The half-elf had to look away quickly, hoping he didn’t catch sight of the hot blush razing across their cheeks.
“Aha! How delightful. Yes, you were scrumptious, my sweet. But to whom am I speaking today? Because it’s certainly not the same sad little bird who was ready to curl up and die last night.” Astarion followed suit, practically bending himself in half with seemingly no effort. Miss Fortune tried unsuccessfully not to let their eyes - or mind - drift too much at the sight. There was no denying that he had a great body, and the incredible flexibility had them feeling some type of way.
The Embrace of Love and Death, Chapter 4: Bite, Bite, Baby
Summary: It’s Bite Night! Miss Fortune awakens to find Astarion’s fangs a breath away from their neck and suddenly all the signs they dismissed before snap into place: their companion is a vampire. Astarion is caught off guard by Miss Fortune’s unexpected reaction.
Read the full chapter on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298/chapters/166132147
Excerpt:
“Were you about to-“ they cried out.
“Shhh! Keep your voice down. It’s not what it looks like,” he pleaded. There was a haunted look on his face as he shuffled back from where he crouched, his hands held up in a placating gesture. “I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just needed - well, blood.”
“So you came to cull the weakest of us first. I understand. I didn’t realize you were a vampire, but in hindsight the signs were all there.” They hugged their knees, resigned to their fate. After all, what hope did they have of fighting off a vampire at night in such a tight space?
“You find a vampire in your tent and your first reaction is numb resignation?!” He asked, incredulous.
“Did you want me to be mad?”
“Yes! No! I-I don’t know!” He paused for a few moments. “There is a lot to unpack here. You and I are going to have a long talk later about your lack of regard for your own life. I need you alive, you know. We all do,” he said with a huff. “Secondly, I didn’t come to you because you’re the weakest but because I thought you’d be the most understanding. The least likely to stake me on sight.
“And lastly: What do you mean you didn’t know?!” Astarion whisper-shouted, gesturing wildly. “After you made a big show about reading that book about ‘vampyrs’ where you knew I’d spot you? Or the hint you dropped about how I haven’t been eating? You shivered at my cold, undead touch earlier. I thought for sure I’d been found out and you were working your way up to blackmailing me o-or…driving me out.”
“Pure coincidence,” they shrugged. “Why didn’t you just tell me if you thought I’d understand?”
“It was still a big risk to take, you know, when a wrong guess would spell my demise.” He shook his head. “No, I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.”
Miss Fortune considered his words for several moments. Studied his face. The arch of his white eyebrows, raised in concern. The deep set eyes, wide with fear. The way his nostrils flared and his mouth hung slightly agape. The man was terrified, ready to flee at a moment’s notice and never return.
“…I do,” they said at last. “I trust you.”
I don't know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I'd like to.
I used the photomode mod to take a look at Astarion's love confession scene. Normally, the camera is focused on Tav when choosing what to say.
These are the expressions Astarion is making off-screen while you are hovering over dialogue options.
Meet Miss Fortune
Race: High Half-Elf
Gender: Non-binary
Real name: ??? They’ll tell Astarion eventually
Birthday: Elesias 30
Class: Arcane trickster rogue
Background: Entertainer
Alignment: Chaotic neutral
Voice: 6
Scent: Sandalwood, vanilla, and jasmine
Favorite food: strawberries
(Accidental) aesthetic inspiration: When making Miss Fortune in Baldur’s Gate 3, the options limited me from perfectly matching the image in my head so I went for something as close as possible to my idea of a beautiful masculine-leaning person. It wasn’t until I showed my spouse and bff that they both pointed out I’d basically made half-elf Chris Motionless from Motionless in White. Oops? 😅
Backstory: Miss Fortune is one my favorite DnD characters I’ve ever played. They were a smart, sassy, and chaotic spy master who had a hand in every secret, scandal, and plot. They were the life of every party, their melodic laughter filling whatever room they were in. As a drag queen they trampled over gender norms and played a pivotal role in helping me realize that I am also non-binary - so Miss Fortune will always occupy a special place in my heart 💛🤍💜🖤. So of COURSE when I was making my first bg3 character I had to make them!
The Baldur’s Gate 3/fanfic version of Miss Fortune starts out significantly more traumatized. They grew up as a pretty bird in a bird cage with clipped wings until finally leaving their old life behind two moons (months) before getting abducted by mind flayers. “The Embrace of Love and Death” will reveal more specifics about their backstory as they get to know and trust Astarion. The parallels in Miss Fortune and Astarion’s backstories are completely coincidental! I knew nothing about Astarion going into the game, and when I created Miss Fortune I 💯 intended to romance everyone’s favorite muscle mama, Karlach. But Astarion landed a crit sneak attack on Miss Fortune’s (and my) heart and the rest was history.
Follow along with Miss Fortune’s story and healing journey with Astarion on AO3:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298?view_full_work=true
Chapter 3: Astarion and Miss Fortune Learn to Work Together
Summary: After a petty squabble between Astarion and Miss Fortune nearly gets the whole party killed in the Overgrown Ruins, Lae’zel begins training the rogues on how to work together. Astarion gives Miss Fortune a flirtatious anatomy lesson on the best places to stab someone, somehow managing to make murder sound sexy. Miss Fortune also attempts to develop a reading habit with a strange old book they found in the ruins called ‘The Curse of the Vampyr.’
You can also read it on AO3
The overgrown ruins near the nautiloid crash site had nearly become home to five fresh corpses seeing as Miss Fortune and their companions had barely survived the encounter with the bandits occupying it. The worst of their injuries belonged to Gale, who had been practically been snapped in two by a barbarian. It was another defeat in the half-elf’s recent losing streak, and Lae’zel’s words from the previous evening about them being weak and a liability eviscerated their confidence.
The mood was tense at supper; nobody seemed willing to break the sullen silence as they tore into the turkey Lae’zel had killed on their way back to camp. As usual, Miss Fortune noted that Astarion, seated next to them, was merely pushing the food around on his plate. At one point he seemed to take the tiniest of bites, yet didn’t seem to chew or swallow. He appeared more focused on the raw gash splitting Miss Fortune’s lip than on his supper, and they resolved to ask about it someday soon. Despite the throbbing pain in their mouth, the half-elf forced themselves to eat double helpings lest they provoke the Gith into giving another lecture.
As it turned out, the extra meat wasn’t enough to earn them a silent retreat. When they finished up and stood to go lick their emotional wounds and rest their sore, freshly healed body in the comfort of their tent, they heard Lae’zel clear her throat from where she sat.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she barked. “That goes for you too, Astarion,” she added as the pale elf attempted to sneak away unnoticed.
“And why is that, Gith?” Miss Fortune sighed, world-weary.
“We all nearly died in that disastrous skirmish today, and the blame rests on both your shoulders.” The warrior rose, stalking over to where the pair of them stood. “Neither of you think before you act. You both rush in, daggers flailing, without a single plan in your vacant skulls.”
“Ouch, you wound me, Lae’zel,” Astarion sneered. “I do have a plan: to murder everyone and everything that needs killing.”
She pointed a finger into his chest. “That’s the kind of plan that gets you killed. And us along with you.” She turned her attention to Miss Fortune. “And you. You’re a pretty face with a silver tongue dripping sweet words. People like you. You can talk your way into and out of situations with ease, which is why I haven’t gutted you and taken over as leader yet.”
“Uh, thanks?” Miss Fortune said, rubbing the back of their head in confusion.
“I’m not finished. Your fighting style lacks discipline, and a freshly hatched Gith has a better head for battle tactics than you. We don’t need two rogues skulking around everywhere. If you had half a brain, you would leave the pale one at camp to watch the cook pot.”
“Now you wait just a-“ Astarion began to object, but Miss Fortune cut in.
“That’s not an option!” they shouted, their stomach twisting itself into knots. They couldn’t begin to explain why, but Astarion had become an indispensable presence for them in these short few days. They didn’t always see eye to eye, but the half-elf enjoyed his witty banter as they slogged around, and for whatever reason he was a calming presence for them. The view from behind was nothing to complain about either.
Taking a deep breath, they continued in a quieter voice: “One surprise attack can cause grievous injury to a foe; two could be lethal. There’s strength in numbers, so why should we throw the advantage of two stealthy fighters away? We can slit people’s throats before they even notice we’re there. Surely you see how valuable that could be, ‘General.’”
Lae’zel must have noticed the steely resolve in Miss Fortune’s body language and realized they wouldn’t budge on the issue. And if she bristled at the ‘General’ jab she didn’t let on. “He stays, then. But you must learn to work together. You speak of two rogues felling opponents before they can raise alarm? That doesn’t happen by chance, istik. You must get to know each other on and off the battlefield. You must think and move as one.”
“If I may,” Shadowheart interjected. “Although I mended the worst of his broken spine, Gale should rest for a few days before I would consider him fit to fight again.”
“And although I cannot explain the phenomenon at this juncture, it would appear that our parasites remain in some sort of state of stasis,” Gale added from where he rested at an incline, his face pained and glistening with sweat. “By all of the extensive accounts I’ve read on the matter we should be mind flayers by now, and yet none of us have experienced a single symptom to indicate that such a fate is on the horizon. Of course haste is still of the utmost importance, but with nary a tentacle sprouted between the pack of us I’d say we could spare a few days.”
“So it would seem,” Lae’zel considered. “It is settled then. We remain at camp until Gale is recovered, and I will train you two relentlessly. It begins now. Unsheathe your daggers.”
Astarion and Miss Fortune exchanged glances, each daring the other to protest. Neither did. Instead, they did as instructed.
“First, you must watch what the other is capable of. Learn each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Miss Fortune, you will begin.” She gestured to the practice dummy they had found in an abandoned merchant’s cart along the road. “You will initiate combat repeatedly. Astarion, you will note hi-” she paused, correcting herself “their speed, their mannerisms, everything you can. And then, you will switch. I will merely watch tonight, but tomorrow I will instruct. Do you understand?”
“Sounds simple enough, but are you sure this is necessary?” Astarion asked coolly.
“If you like your guts inside your body, it is.”
“When you put it that way, let’s begin!” Astarion laughed nervously.
The pale elf stood watching with his hands on his hips as Miss Fortune ran through the exercise over and over. Tonight, they practiced a stealthy approach where they crouched down and drew closer to the practice dummy as quietly as possible before delivering a swift, sudden strike.
The sun was beginning to set, leaving pockets of darkness Miss Fortune could step or roll between to stay obscured. Fresh as they’d been to the thieves guild, they’d done several jobs for them working the streets. It was those experiences they tried to conjure memories of to guide their movements. But even so, those jobs were mostly to cut purse strings or extract information. Prior to being kidnapped they’d only killed one person before. And that first kill had been left with so many stab wounds the detectives hadn’t been able to identify the body. So while they’d excelled at stealth, their sneak attacks were guesswork at best. They had no idea where to stab a body to do the most damage in one go.
Over and over again Miss Fortune retreated, snuck their way over to the practice dummy, and jabbed. They tried to ignore the nerves that came with being assessed as they realized Astarion and Lae’zel’s eyes never left them. When sweat began to drench their shirt they simply removed it. Goose flesh dimpled their skin and a shiver went down their spine from the sudden cold. It wasn’t until about five rounds after the half-elf thought they couldn’t take it anymore that Lae’zel told them to stop.
“Enough. Astarion, report. What are their strengths and weaknesses?” Lae’zel demanded.
Astarion crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re nimble, darling, and you have a good eye for keeping to the shadows. But you have no idea where to aim your blade,” he said, sounding bored.
“That’s not what I’m used to hearing,” Miss Fortune smirked, flicking their gaze briefly downwards toward their crotch and back.
“Oh ha ha, what a time to develop a sense of humor.” Astarion rolled his eyes, then sauntered over to where the half-elf stood. “Allow me to show you.” He stood right behind them, his breath in their ear as he drew a sharp finger across their throat. “I’m sure you’re acquainted with every rogue’s favorite spot, the throat slit.”
Miss Fortune became aware of his scent for the first time - a combination of earth, citrus, and something else they couldn’t quite place. They found it utterly alluring. “You smell good,” was all they could think to say.
“I know, darling, I missed my calling as a perfumer. Do try not to let my aroma distract you,” the pale elf chided as he moved his hand slightly to the left, nearing the side of their neck. Miss Fortune visibly tensed, waiting. He mimed a stab-and-jerk motion to the side of their Adam’s apple. “A jab like this and they’ll bleed out in moments, gurgling helplessly on their own blood.” He moved again, now hovering a hand over their eyes. “A quick stab through the eye will render a brain quite useless. You could achieve a similar effect jabbing through the back of their neck, though your blade is more likely to get stuck if you don’t know what you’re doing - and you clearly don’t, not yet.” Next his hand went to their ribs, and as his fingertips brushed against their exposed skin Miss Fortune shivered; was Astarion cold to the touch, or was their sweat-soaked body merely playing tricks on them?
“A quick jab between the ribs will puncture a lung and they’ll be unable to call for help,” Astarion continued. Even talking about murder, the man’s voice was so sensual and calming, somehow soft and gravelly at the same time. Miss Fortune realized it would take a great deal of willpower to not just agree to anything he asked for when he used that voice. The pale elf’s hands traced along their ribs down to their lower back before miming another double jab. “Those darling kidneys back here don’t like to be prodded either; while this won’t bring as swift a death as other places, rest assured your target will not be long for this world without those organs.”
The cold feeling dissipated as Astarion stopped touching them and continued the demonstration elsewhere on their body. “Nobody expects a thrust to the armpit, yet you can get a lovely bloodletting from that most unguarded place,” he said as he once again moved his hand to mime thrusting into the crook of their arm. “And of course, darling, there’s always a good stab upwards at the crotch. But we’re not on intimate enough terms yet for me to show you that one,” he teased, stepping away.
“If you’re done with your demonstration, it’s your turn Astarion,” Lae’zel interjected.
The pair of rogues switched places. Miss Fortune felt ill at ease standing with Lae’zel. They blocked her presence out of their mind, instead putting all their focus on watching Astarion run through the same maneuvers they’d just finished. The half-elf noted with approval how gracefully he moved as he flitted across the clearing. Almost like a cat, his feet hardly seemed to touch the ground at times. They were certain his stealthiness surpassed theirs. When it came time to strike, however, Miss Fortune noticed two things: he seemed to hesitate for a split moment deciding where to strike, and his strikes were surprisingly weak given his athletic physique. His build was slighter than theirs but his muscles were better defined, so the revelation was baffling. They relayed these thoughts to both Lae’zel and Astarion when it came time to report their findings.
“I’m merely holding back, darling, wouldn’t want to intimidate you if we’re going to be forced to work together,” Astarion sniffed, though his eyes darted to the side as he spoke.
“Enough,” Lae’zel cut in. “I agree with your assessments of each other. You’re dismissed for the night. Rest up, I won’t go easy on you tomorrow.” She left without waiting for a response, leaving the rogues alone in the clearing at the edge of camp.
“Well, this is an interesting development,” Miss Fortune tested the waters.
“Mm, yes, I suppose it is,” Astarion drawled, once again sounding bored.
“I’m gonna go wash up in the river; care to join me?”
“I’ll pass, little bird. I’ve got my own needs to see to.”
“Understandable,” Miss Fortune said with a smile, trying to mask their disappointment. “Perhaps I’ll catch you around the fire after?”
“Perhaps,” Astarion said with a noncommittal wave of his hand as he turned to leave.
The first thing Miss Fortune did when they got back from the river was stop by Gale’s tent to see how he was feeling. They felt a pang of guilt when they realized he’d already turned in for the night. It had been a jolt to their nervous system watching the barbarian bandit smash his back against their knee. They could still hear the sickening snap of his spine, feel the erratic racing of their heart as they feared for their new friend’s life. Lae’zel had been right. They had bickered with Astarion over their approach and wound up alerting the group to their presence, effectively handing over the advantage. Gale was in this sorry state because of them, and now they’d have to stew in their guilt a little longer before they could properly apologize.
Miss Fortune recognized that familiar dark, heavy fog rolling through their brain, and they thought of the other night when Astarion barged in on them furiously jerking off in order to earn enough peace for a night of sleep. Remembered his words of how so-called normal people handled insomnia and decided to try reading the book they’d nabbed from the ruins that day.
And so it was that Astarion returned to camp to find Miss Fortune stretched out on their stomach by the fire, brow furrowed as they stared down at a mildewy tome.
“Ah, I see you’re picking up a new hobby,” the pale elf interrupted smugly. “Borrowed a book from Gale, did you? This one has seen better days. I would have thought the wizard would take better care of his most prized possessions.”
Miss Fortune looked up from the ancient text. “I grabbed this from the ruins today - it looked cool, but…I’m having a hard time reading it. Seems like the writing is very old.”
“Hmm, mind if I have a look?” He asked as he glided down to sit beside them. Miss Fortune pushed themselves up and handed the book over. He snapped the book shut to observe the cover and looked as if someone had doused him with icy cold water. “The Curse of the Vampyr?! What in the hells possessed you to pick up a book like this?”
“I…what’s wrong with it?”
Within moments the calm, charming mask was back in place. “Oh, nothing really, this is just much too advanced for a novice reader like yourself. Tell you what: why don’t I take this off your hands, and you can borrow one of my storybooks? I’m sure I have something more suitable. I might even have one with pictures.”
“…Sure, sounds great,” Miss Fortune said suspiciously. They could tell something was off about this situation, they just couldn’t tell what. “Thank you.”
“Of course, of course, anything for my favorite traveling companion.” His face was too perfectly composed, only deepening the half-elf’s unease. They decided to change the subject. “On another note, Astarion, I’ve noticed that you haven’t really eaten much of anything the last few days.”
“Have you now?”
“I struggle with that, too. Growing up I sometimes was purposely not given food for days at a time so I could be thinner, and even now it can be difficult not to do it to myself.”
“…I see.” His face was unreadable, as if resolved to give nothing away.
“You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. Just know that I get it and I’m here if you want to talk. But keeping our strength up is more important right now than a thin waist. That’s what I keep trying to tell myself, anyway.”
“Heh, you’re sweet. Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be up for sharing in due time, little bird. But for now, let me fetch you a new book.”
He rose, taking The Curse of the Vampyr with him into his tent. He returned moments later, a fresher, smaller text in his hand. “Here,” he said, holding it out. “This one’s got dashing knights and the like, should be far easier to get through.”
“Hopefully it will help quiet my mind,” Miss Fortune sighed as they took the offered book.
“Well, I suppose you’ve always got your old fallback plan if it doesn’t, hmm?” His grin was nearly predatory.
“Hey, whatever works, right?” Miss Fortune shot back, refusing once again to give him leverage over them for that. “Thanks again for the book. I’d better get to quieting my mind one way or another. Sweet dreams,” they said as they got up, rolling their bedroll back up. They spared one last backward glance on their way to the tent to find Astarion watching them go. In the glow of the fire, they noticed a deep sadness in his eyes that matched the brokenness Miss Fortune felt inside. They felt an invisible tug to go back over to him but ignored it - it was too soon, they reminded themselves.
“Sweet dreams,” Astarion replied before he, too, got up to put out the fire and return to his tent.
Sweet dreams were not in the cards for Miss Fortune, however. That night they thrashed wildly in their bedroll, sweaty and afraid, as visions flitted through their mind. They dreamt they were stuck in a bird cage with nothing but a bed clad in the finest silk sheets. As the scene panned out they were one of hundreds of people trapped in a field of birdcages. A pair of giant hands methodically opened each cage, removed the person, and either choked the life out of them or outright snapped their necks. The walls of Miss Fortune’s mind reverberated with the sickening sounds of bones snapping and people gurgling, fighting for breath. As each one died the giant discarded them unceremoniously into a pile until they had to crane their neck to see to the top of the pile of corpses. Their dream self searched the whole cage for a secret exit, finding none. Next they tried to pick the lock of their cage but their fingers didn’t work right and they kept dropping their lockpick. The hands reached their cage and the half-elf tried to flee only to find the silk bedsheets had come to life, wrapping themselves around their wrists and ankles. They were bound tight as the hand reached in for them, the giant’s rumbling laugh shaking through their whole skeleton.
“Do you want a quick death or a slow one?” it boomed.
“Quick!” Miss Fortune shouted, eliciting more peals of booming thunderous laughter.
“You don’t deserve a quick death. Request denied.” And a hand closed around their windpipe.
Deception in Astarion's Romance
I was talking with my friend once again about the Insight check that may happen in one of the cutscenes with Astarion, as they said it never happened to them. I went to look for the cutscene, and when I found it, my friend said that this cutscene didn't happen for them, and I can see why. It's one of those easily missable cutscenes at the start of the game. You need to specifically go to rest after talking to Nettie and promising to save Halsin from the Goblin camp.
Let's call it "To Save Druid Halsin" cutscene.
I got this cutscene on 2 separate characters of mine. But got insight check only in one of them, as it's tied to a specific dialogue choice.
When I compared the two, I realized that both are different dialogue trees and create completely different experience and impression of Astarion to the player. One that can affect player's perception of him.
Insight Check version:
2. No insight check version:
Now when I look at those dialogue trees in comparison it's very much visible that when you pick "I thought you didn't like me" option then Astarion tries to insincerely assure you he does find you interesting and then insight check happens. He does that because he is afraid you will get out of his grasp, and at that time he sees you as his only lifeline. He needs you, so he can't let you go, can't let you think that he isn't your friend or doesn't find you interesting or attractive as a sexual partner. BUT if you pick the "I have many talents" option it's visible that Astarion is clearly taken aback by YOU hitting on him first, he then proceeds to stall by saying that he is just waiting for the right moment, because you are technically coming very strong onto him, and then pauses before he says that he needs to clear his head.
Making a pause in his speech is very unlikely for him, which shows that your approach has surprised him. My friend said that "you can practically see the gears turning in his head" and I agree completely.
His reaction is completely different. He tries to create distance rather than try to use this to his advantage and seduce you to get security.
It creates two completely different experiences with him.
The first gives the player an impression that Astarion is a liar that will try to seduce you to further his own goals, which in turn makes the player cautious around him. The player even gets an option to tell him to "Watch himself" as a warning to not try to manipulate the player. Or go for it, knowing they're playing the lie when it comes to love.
The second on the other hand gives the player an impression that Astarion, despite all his swagger and flirting, is not ready for people to actually get interested in him. His first reaction is to create space, a distance between him and the player, and then run to think alone. He is completely taken off guard and doesn't know how to tackle it.
As you know, Astarion's romance is full of him playing a role that he knows best. A role that he always played for Cazador when he was getting victims for him, because he feared what would happen if he tried to disobey again (he did before and was harshly punished for it).
That's why the moment when he admits that intimacy is tainted for him due to what he was forced to do is so important, because he is choosing to open up to the pleyer, but at the same time it may feel to the player like the betrayal if they didn't expect that to be a case.
Insight check gives the player a foreshadowing that this romance will be full of half-truths and that you can't be ever sure about Astarion's feelings, no matter how much real it all felt. The player who didn't get the insight check might then feel that the intimacy was never actually real and get angry at Astarion for lying to them all this time. It'd be in character if you didn't expect it and truly believed that everything he did was sincere. The player can obviously get the impression that he is insincere from other cutscenes, but this one is the earliest one and gives the player a clear mechanical sign that Astarion is lying, versus others that only may imply or state that he is insincere via text alone.
And the biggest kicker is that you can't technically say that he was lying to the player all along, because to him that role was so natural to slip back into that he didn't even consider it lying, because it's a part of him at this point. A part that is hard to shake off, a habit that is not so easily beaten, a coping mechanism that he relies onto. That is why I believe at times he doesn't even know what he feels anymore. Or how he feels about certain stuff. Not about everything, but some.
And that's why it's so hard to pinpoint the fact that he has issues.
It's not easily visible that intimacy is a problem for him, because he got so accustomed to throwing aside his comfort and telling himself it's fine that the tells of the lie are simply not there. They don't appear. The insincerity is wrapped in sincerity because the mask stopped to be just a mask, and became part of how he copes with the world.
And coping mechanisms as such can feel like part of who you are to the point that the very idea of abandoning them may feel like losing a part of you that made you "you". (Or so it's what I think. I don't have any scientific studies to support this, so you can take it with a grain of salt, because I may have just started rambling right there or smth).
I played my Drow in a way that he was aware that Astarion isn't true about himself, because 1. I already knew about the insight check from the other run, 2. my brain muddled the memories and I thought I got the check on my Drow as well, 3. my Drow and Astarion have a lot in common when it comes to keeping secrets and not being entirely themselves to others. Keeping appearances to some extent while also trying to be as real and true to themselves as it's possible.
So when the scene in which Astarion confessed that intimacy is now tainted for him happened, I never felt angry at him. Just sad that it's what happened to him, and also determined to support him in any way I could. I'm though aware that if I played the game differently, I may have assumed him to be worse than he actually is, someone who wants to use me, and never give him the chance to open up about his trauma. Or worse, not even trust that he isn't lying about his abuse.
Simply because of a tiny difference in the perception of him.
Chapter 2: A Reluctant Leader
In the interest of keeping things family friendly on Tumblr, I’ve left out the mild 🌶️ part - you can read the whole chapter on AO3, though!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298/chapters/165181885#workskin
Summary: Gale and Lae’zel join the party, and Lae’zel has choice criticisms about Miss Fortune’s battle prowess. Miss Fortune continues to unravel at night, and Astarion catches them mid-pity party. The pair discuss the gift of freedom.
Two fresh faces sat around the campfire tonight, their unfamiliar features illuminated by its orange glow as the stars above yawned and stretched awake. Miss Fortune was exhausted from all the walking, from having to play the leader - now with more people to herd around. Gale of Waterdeep, a wizard, seemed pleasant enough, if a bit long-winded and over-confident. Miss Fortune found it amusing that he claimed prodigy status in nearly the same breath as he’d needed to be pulled out of a waypoint he’d trapped himself in with a wayward spell. But the rogue liked the kind twinkle in his eyes, his gentle demeanor; and they certainly couldn’t complain about the delicious stew he’d stirred up from their foraging today.
They’d also found the green woman again - Lae’zel was her name. A Githyanki warrior. Miss Fortune had never met a Githyanki before, and from the little glimpse of the culture they’d gotten so far, they were glad they’d been spared this long. They didn’t care for her brusque attitude or her threatening glare. Rescuing her from the rickety cage those tieflings had trapped her in also introduced additional tension into their group as Shadowheart and Lae’zel quickly displayed a festering enmity towards one another. Miss Fortune didn’t envy their future self if they had to eventually choose between the two.
It was just Miss Fortune and the new additions sitting around the fire for supper. Shadowheart had made it clear she did not wish to break bread with a Githyanki, and Astarion had made some excuse about being eager to get back to an exciting part of his book while he ate.
“Thanks for cooking, Gale,” Miss Fortune said to the wizard. “This was delicious.”
“My pleasure, Miss Fortune,” Gale replied. “Can’t say I’m much of a hunter, but I’m happy to do my part around the hearth.”
“Serve yourself another helping,” Lae’zel commanded, staring the half-elf down. Her disdain for them was clearly visible even from the other side of the fire.
“Excuse me?” Miss Fortune replied.
“You are underfed,” the warrior insisted. “Scrawny. Weak. If you don’t gather your strength, you won’t last a tenday.” She stood, stalking around the fire to where Miss Fortune sat. “Stand. Let me show you.”
The half-elf looked to Gale for help, but the wizard was avoiding eye contact and looking deeply uncomfortable. Perhaps hearing a shift in the tone of their banter, Astarion had come out of his tent, leaning casually against the pole of the canopy with his arms crossed over his chest. Miss Fortune realized they were on their own. Humoring Lae’zel, they stood sullenly, setting their bowl down by the log they’d been sitting on.
Lae’zel circled them like a hyena sniffing out carrion, her long, sharp fingers poking and prodding as she went. “I feel sharp rib bones where there should be muscle. A hollow stomach, weak arms. How do you expect to fight like this? Tsk’va, can you even bear the weight of a sword?”
“Three days ago I wasn’t expected to fight at all,” Miss Fortune said, staring her down.
“Circumstances have changed, istik. You’re pathetic. If we had been raised together at my crèche, you would have been such a liability that I would have killed you at the first opportunity, if the sa’varsh didn’t cull you first.”
Miss Fortune’s mind reeled at the abusive words being spat at them. The insults burrowed into their mind deeper than the tadpole; the half-elf could feel them taking root, spreading the rot of self-loathing further still. Just what I needed, they thought. More ways to be insecure. Lae’zel’s criticisms were a sharp contrast to everything they’d grown up hearing, when they were denied food for not being thin enough. This was a new chapter in a long saga of always being too much and not enough all at once. And yet, with both Astarion and Gale bearing witness to their humiliation, a small voice in the back of their mind urged them to resist.
“Do you hear me?” Lae’zel hissed. Her hand shot out to grab at Miss Fortune’s chin. Panic clawed at them in that instant as flashbacks played through their mind of so many different hands wrapping themselves around their neck; crushed windpipes, ugly purple bruises, coming to with a healer’s face looming over them, gasping for breath even as the air felt like fire in their lungs. Pure instinct kicked in as they evaded lightning fast and elbowed her in the stomach, stepping out of range before she could react.
“Touch me again without my permission and you’ll find out firsthand how deadly I can be,” they threatened. Miss Fortune donned a mask of steely resolve that they hoped would look more believable than it felt. “There are more ways to be lethal than brute strength, Gith, and you’d do well to remember that next time you wish to humiliate me in front of our companions.”
Lae’zel remained doubled over while she fought to regain her breath. Once she did, she smiled cruelly. “Good. So he does have a spine in there somewhere.” Did Miss Fortune detect a hint of respect in her tone? Probably not.
“‘They.’ My pronouns are they/them.”
“Chk. Your pronouns will be was/were if you don’t bulk up. My warning stands.”
“Lae’zel, down girl,” Astarion cut in at last, remaining well outside her reach. “I think you’ve made your point.”
Miss Fortune let out a huge sigh of relief as they watched the warrior stomp off to her tent and immediately begin sparring with the air. They picked their bowl back up and took a second helping, sitting back down next to Gale.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” they said to the wizard.
“I’m sorry I didn’t step in,” he replied, bashful. “Truth be told, that one intimidates me.”
“Ha! You’re in good company then,” Astarion drawled as he sauntered back over to the fire, taking a seat on the other side of Miss Fortune. “You did well standing up to her, though if I were you I’d sleep lightly tonight.”
“Thanks, Astarion. So comforting. Anyway…Gale, what’s Waterdeep like? I’d never left Baldur’s Gate before my abduction.”
Gale was more than happy to regale them with extensive stories on the history and landmarks of Waterdeep as well as his personal fond memories while Miss Fortune finished eating. The half-elf made a point to nod along and voice noncommittal approval every now and again, but they noticed Astarion made no such effort. He instead chose to slouch back and inspect his nails, which he kept filed in neat points.
“Astarion, you’ve got cleanup duty tonight,” Miss Fortune stated once Gale’s story had petered out.
“And break a nail? I think not,” the pale elf retorted haughtily.
“Everyone does their part, your honor,” Miss Fortune warned as they slapped their knees and stood up. “There’s no servants out here. I’m going to go check on Shadowheart. Later, gentlemen.”
“Ugh, fine,” they heard Astarion complain as they walked away.
Miss Fortune found Shadowheart kneeling in prayer in front of her tent, head bowed and hands steepled. They wordlessly kneeled in front of her, waiting for a small while before she noticed another presence nearby.
“Hi,” she smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
“Just checking in,” Miss Fortune smiled back. “I noticed the tension between you and our new Githyanki companion.” They shuffled a little closer until their knees were almost touching, and Miss Fortune was pleased, if not a bit surprised, that the cleric didn’t shuffle away.
“I would be lying if I said I welcome her addition to the party,” she admitted. “I don’t trust her.” The cleric shifted her posture, moving from kneeling to a relaxed cross-legged pose. She fished the mysterious artifact out from a pocket and began toying idly with it. Miss Fortune made a silent note to get her to spill the truth about that as soon as possible.
“I know, and I’m with you. I don’t trust her either, but she seems so confident about the cure waiting in her crèche. We can’t afford to turn our nose up at any leads, Shadowheart.”
“I hate that you’re right,” she admitted. “I’ll do my best to be civil but that’s as much as I can promise. You’d do well to demand the same from her.”
Miss Fortune held up their hands in surrender. “I’ll see what I can do, but not tonight. She’s already detailed the many reasons I should die over dinner; I’d hate to add more to her list.”
Shadowheart gasped, then put a hand over her mouth to stifle laughter. “Did she?!”
“With Gale as my very unsupportive witness I can assure you, she did.”
Unable to keep it contained, Shadowheart’s sharp laugh cracked like a whip in the space between them. “I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I almost wish I’d seen it. Anyway, thanks for checking on me. I’d do well to get back to my nightly prayers. Goodnight, Miss Fortune.”
“Goodnight, Shadowheart,” they said as they rose.
The campfire was deserted by the time Miss Fortune ambled back over, and they couldn’t tell whether they felt relieved or disappointed. They realized the specific company may have tilted the emotion in one direction or the other; on one hand they were relieved Lae’zel was out of sight. But Astarion remained aloof and something of an enigma, one the half-elf was curious to uncover. Perhaps another night, they thought to themselves.
Alone, Miss Fortune threw a few more sticks on the fire before taking a seat in front of it. The cracks of dry wood igniting and the drone of insects chirping filled the night air. The sounds were still unfamiliar and overwhelming to them, but less so than the night before. They remained unnerved by just how small and insignificant it made them feel to sit under a blanket of stars, however. They were just a speck of dust floating through the world, really. A speck of dust that now had four people looking to them for answers they didn’t have.
With a heavy sigh, Miss Fortune realized they’d traded the panic of the previous night for a sinking, familiar numbness. They pulled their knees to their chest and stared unblinking into the dancing flames, letting their eyes go unfocused as they burned and watered. An ugly thought intruded: what if they just…laid down in the fire? The pain wouldn’t last long, and on the other side of it would be blissful nothingness. No more being too much and yet not enough. No more parasite, no more nightmares. But no, the fire wasn’t big enough anyway, and the smell would likely wake someone up in time to douse the flames and heal their mangled flesh. If only mending the mind were as simple as calling upon one’s god and shouting te curo.
Miss Fortune held vigil over the dying fire until the last embers turned to ash before they doused it with water out of an abundance of caution; Shadowheart had warned to never trust a dry fire pit to stay dormant. At last they retreated to their tent, collapsing on their bedroll with a groan. The heavy blanket of numbness continued to weigh on their chest, yet their mind would not relinquish the drone of insecurities in favor of sleep. They knew from countless other nights like this that no amount of pleading with themselves would bring the sweet relief of sleep.
There was only one thing that usually worked when their mind was in this state. With a heavy sigh, they slid down their breeches…
Read the rest here
The Embrace of Love and Death
Welcome to the first chapter of my fanfic, “The Embrace of Love and Death”! When rogues Astarion and Miss Fortune (OC) get abducted from Baldur’s Gate and infected with mind flayer tadpoles, they both become “conveniently lost” from their troubled homes. As they grapple with their past traumas they find companionship, healing, and eventually love and renewed purpose in each other. Will getting a mind flayer parasite inserted into their eyes wind up being the best thing that ever happened to them? This slow burn tale of romance, sex, and healing will reveal the answer to that in due time.
Prefer to read on AO3? Gotchu covered right here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298#main
Chapter 1: Fresh off the Nautiloid
The sun was beginning to set on a day so bad that calling it a nightmare would be about as euphemistic as calling a raging owlbear a hungry house cat. One moment Miss Fortune had been trailing their mark through an alley in the slums of Baldur’s Gate, and the next they were abducted into a nautiloid, strapped in a mind flayer pod with a tadpole burrowing into their brain. They’d met that green woman, rescued a cleric named Shadowheart from her mind flayer pod, fought screeching imps, and then crashed the whole damned ship into who-knows-where. They had no idea how they survived the ordeal, but the screaming pain in their head didn’t give them much hope that their luck would last.
They’d never even been outside of Baldur’s Gate before, and now they were lost in the wilderness with two strangers. They’d lost sight of the green woman after the crash, found Shadowheart outside, and met a handsome, effeminate high elf with blindingly pale skin who’d tried to slit their throat on sight. The elf’s name was Astarion, and while they’d talked him down from violence and convinced him their odds of survival were better together, the half-elf rogue resolved to keep an eye on him. Not that they could fully blame him for the attempted murder; had the roles been reversed, they probably would have done the same. But still, they much preferred their blood inside their body.
Miss Fortune couldn’t for the life of them understand why their new companions were already looking to them like some kind of leader. While they were used to people gravitating to them in more mundane settings due to their good looks and charismatic persona, those skills hardly felt useful out here. What the hells did they know about anything real? They’d have to fake it, they realized.
“Sun’s going down, and this spot looks as safe as any to set up camp,” they said with feigned confidence. The companions nodded, set down their packs. Still they looked at Miss Fortune, waiting for instructions. “Err…do either of you know how to start a fire?”
“Gods, this is hopeless!” cried Shadowheart. “Have you never camped before?! No matter, I’ve done it plenty. Watch and learn, gentlemen, because I won’t be doing this by myself every night. I’m not your camp mother.”
Shadowheart walked the others through the process of setting up camp, showed them how to catch fish from the river and impale them on sticks to cook over the fire she started. Miss Fortune stumbled over their actions, and Astarion was even more helpless - but they managed, and they had places to sleep and food to eat by the time the sun winked out of the sky.
“So, Miss Fortune is an interesting name,” Shadowheart said cautiously between bites of fish and the other rations in their packs. “Did you come up with that on your own?”
“I did,” they replied. “I don’t like to take myself too seriously.”
Astarion snorted. “Really? I never would have guessed.”
“Why ‘Miss Fortune’ if you’re…well, you know,” Shadowheart pressed, gesturing to their masculine body.
The half-elf was about 185 centimeters tall and lanky to the point of looking underfed, but their lean frame had the buds of muscles beginning to form from the last couple moons they’d spent running with the city’s thieves guild. Their tan skin was sprinkled with freckles over the slight bent of their nose and high, prominent cheekbones. They had raven-black hair with violet highlights that was shaved at the sides while the long top was pulled into a tight bun at the back of their head. A purple-inked tattoo of three swallows swooped out of their hairline, fluttering across their left temple, and despite the harrowing day they’d had, the berry-colored lip stain and angled purple eyeshadow they donned each morning remained fairly well intact.
Miss Fortune worked hard to cut a visage that danced the line between masculine and feminine, though they often found themselves shackled with the ill-fitting label of ‘man’ by strangers who could only see the world in terms of this or that. All of which was more than the rogue was willing to explain to someone they’d just met.
“It suits me,” they said instead. “To my foes, an encounter with me spells their misfortune. And to my friends, well…I can only hope they feel fortunate to know me. And besides, everyone knows luck is a lady.”
“I can go with that,” Shadowheart agreed. “If not for you, I would have had the misfortune of staying stuck in that mind flayer pod. Though I hope you and our pale friend here will be able to hold your own out here. You both strike me as pampered city boys, judging by your lack of survival skills and soft hands.”
“I’m a city person, yes, but I would hardly consider myself pampered,” Miss Fortune replied. “Not everyone works with their hands, you know.”
“Yes, some of us work with our minds,” Astarion chimed in. “I’m a magistrate back in the city. All terribly boring work I assure you, though I can handle myself with a dagger.”
Having finished their fish and rations, Miss Fortune looked over at Astarion as he spoke and noticed him slowly pushing his food around the plate without eating.
“Food not up to your standards, your honor?” Miss Fortune jabbed. “I’ll take whatever you don’t want.”
“Oh, by all means enjoy,” Astarion said, handing the plate over. “This is hardly the fare I’m used to.”
“So, how about you, Shadowheart?” Miss Fortune changed the subject while shoveling Astarion’s food into their mouth. “You mentioned you’re a cleric - you from The Gate?”
“I am, and I’ll be headed back not a moment after we find a cure. I’ve something very important waiting for me back home.” Shadowheart’s facial expression darkened; Miss Fortune sensed it was a touchy subject and wondered if it had anything to do with that strange artifact she carried. She’d been dodgy when they asked her about it after they reunited on land.
“Impatient to get back to a lover, perhaps?” they jested.
“I don’t see how that’s your business, but no, and we’ll leave it at that” she replied.
“All right, all right, we girls all have our secrets,” they said, crossing their legs and miming tucking an invisible strand of hair behind their ear. “Anyway, thanks for showing us how to set up camp. I’ve got cleanup.”
The trio each went their separate ways after dinner; Shadowheart and Astarion heading to their respective tents, Miss Fortune down to the river bank with the dirty dishes and a rag. As the half-elf knelt by the river scrubbing away, their senses were assaulted by all the unusual sounds and smells surrounding them. They were used to the din of pedestrians day and night, the hawking of vendors and clopping of horse hooves on cobblestones. There were always sounds and scents in the city, and even when they were unpleasant their presence was oddly comforting. Out here in the dark with all these new sensations, they found themselves feeling utterly alone and insignificant.
Another familiar and unwelcome sensation began to coalesce at the edges of their consciousness, as if their head were filling up with a swarm of angry bees. It happened often enough that the half-elf knew they didn’t have long before their mind assaulted them and robbed them of rational thought. They quickly finished their cleanup duties and rushed back to camp, placing everything in a neat stack by their packs. By this point, Miss Fortune’s lips and the tip of their nose had started to tingle, their chest felt tight, and the buzzing feeling in their head had intensified to a dull roar.
This can’t be happening right now, they thought to themselves. Please, please not now. For a devout person this would have been the time to begin praying, but Miss Fortune knew it was pointless; no god had ever deigned to answer before.
Perceived danger lurked in every corner, every shadow of the camp. Frantic and woozy, the half-elf began to search for a place that would be out of both Astarion and Shadowheart’s line of sight. They ducked behind a large rock that seemed to fit the bill and let their trembling legs give out beneath them. Crumpled into a ball, their breath grew shallow and ragged as a world of nightmares clawed into their thoughts.
Everything is terrible. I’m going to die out here, Miss Fortune’s thoughts screamed at them. I can’t do this, I can’t survive whatever those monsters did to me on the ship. We’ll never find a cure. I’m going to turn into a grotesque mind flayer, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. My life is over. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die! And I can’t do anything to stop it…I’m too weak…I’m going to die all alone. Utterly unloved. And nobody will miss me. Worst of all, I deserve this. I’ve never done anything worthwhile with this pathetic life of mine, not once in these miserable 28 years.
Tears rushed out and streamed down their face in an ugly, snotty mess as the panic fully gripped their mind. A gulping cry escaped their lips in defiance of their efforts to fall apart quietly, which only made them wish to hide somewhere further away from their new acquaintances.
“Is…something the matter?” they barely heard a cautious man’s voice call out. “Why, you’re positively shaking!”
Miss Fortune buried their face in their knees. “Please, don’t look at me,” they sobbed.
“I…should I leave?” Astarion asked.
“Go ahead. I’m…fine,” the half-elf lied.
“I’m not stupid, you are clearly not fine.”
“The Ma—my old boss always told me I’m just overly dramatic. I’m having a dramatic episode, as she used to call it.”
He’s going to hate you now too, the negative thoughts intruded. Not even a full day in and you’ve shown just how weak and pathetic you are.
Astarion stood there in dumbfounded silence as he watched Miss Fortune gulp for air, seemingly unsure whether to approach or wipe his hands of the whole situation and return to his tent.
“You should try this thing called breathing,” he called out eventually. “In, out…in, out…surely you know how it works.”
While the tone was condescending, it struck a cord. Miss Fortune focused on their breath between sobs, inhaling slowly through their nose and exhaling through their mouth. It took several long moments, but the angry bees began to fade and the maelstrom of negative thoughts receded along with them. Their chest still felt tight, their eyes ached, and as the last of the panic ebbed they were left with the usual crushing exhaustion; the usual collateral damage when they lost a war with their mind. Their body posture slackened as they heaved a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” they mumbled into their knees. “I’m not usually this weak, I swear. It’s just been a hell of a day.”
“…you should get some rest,” Astarion replied, his voice deadpan and unreadable. “I’m not feeling tired just yet, so I’ll keep watch over you and the camp.”
Miss Fortune rose unsteadily to their feet, lurching to the side as their knees threatened to buckle. They recalled the flash of steel against their throat hours earlier; were they less drained from their mind’s attack they would have laughed at the irony of his offer.
“Thank you, I’ll feel better knowing you’re watching over us,” they lied instead. “Goodnight, Astarion.”
“Goodnight, Miss Fortune,” he replied coolly.
It was all the half-elf could do to keep from hurting themselves as they collapsed onto their bedroll. Despite their misgivings about Astarion, they were too tired to keep their eyes open. And if he slit their throat in the night, well, they probably deserved it anyway.
astarion didnt think monster hunter would be more interesting than his ass but apparently he was wrong
it's giving princess celestia
Finally made my version of Batstarion! Because I love both bats and Astarion.
He is a scary and powerful vampire, as you can see. (I think I made him way too innocent-looking. Imagine him with little angry eyebrows, maybe)
Made mostly of felt/wool. I modeled him after a northern ghost bat rather than a vampire bat, sorry. Someday I'll make a more realistic, fully articulated version (perhaps a vampire bat), but bats are harder to make than I thought. Hope you like him!
I’ve been trying to get some good dialogue scene screenshots of Astarion, and my field research suggests that he has these modes only:
Literal model
"Depraved carnal lust"
Sad cat
Actual gremlin
I think that romancing Astarion should break your oath if you play as OotA paladin, purely because it would be really funny if the Oathbreaker Knight jumpscared you in the middle of the act 1 intimacy scene
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.
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.
THIS GAME IS TRYING TO KILL ME I SWEAR IT
Was Astarion lying in this scene?
So there's a line that stands out to me from one of Astarion's act 1 scenes, when he admits that the player character was his first taste of blood from a person. When I first saw this scene and ever since, I've felt a bit conflicted about it, because I'm not sure whether or not he's lying. I do believe that Cazador wouldn't ever let him ever drink a person's blood, because he wants to degrade and torment him as much as he can, but it seems very possible that Astarion might have bitten one of his victims in the past, given that he was so starved. He'd certainly be punished horribly for it, but I think there's a definite possibility it happened at least once. The whole "you were my first" line came across to me as potentially a part of his manipulation, because that just sounds exactly like pandering straight to the player character's desires, trying to make us feel special. But the way that the line is delivered also puzzles me, because with the way he kind of mutters and looks to the side, it seems like he could be genuine here. But Neil Newbon is a legend and maybe he's just that good at portraying a well-delivered lie. I'm not sure if this topic ever comes up again, but it seemed pretty significant in terms of just how meaningful that first bite was, on multiple levels. I'm curious to know what others think and if I'm missing anything.
Some people really play the whole game, experience Astarion's storyline in full, yet don't understand or respect that he doesn’t want to be treated as a sex object.
Love it when you have to suspend your disbelief over the fact that a character is able to function on any level given what they've been through. My boy is impossibly well-adjusted.