warnings: spoilers for early romance w astarion, fluff, kind of follows canon dialogue, reader pining hard, reader is an artist this has been done with this exact scenario surely, astarion calls reader âdarlingâ, âmy sweetâ, also âdoveâ which isnât canon, reader and astarion arenât really together but i mean. yeah they are. not proof read!!!!!
word count: 1.1k
you had been drawing astarion for much longer than youâd care to admit. though the dates scribbled on the bottom of each page betrayed you, exposing that you had drawn astarion close to every day for a month.
it started off innocently, you drew all of your party members when you had first met them. you were stressed and overwhelmed with your situation at hand, the tadpole snugly sat behind your eye squirming to remind you of your devastating truth: youâd soon become a mindflayer if you couldnât find a cure. on nights you couldnât sleep or mornings youâd woken up early, you found yourself drawing. it had always been a way youâd let off your steam, now was no exception.
when the stress of your situation died down, as did your drawings of your now friends. you had a couple dayâs worth of gale and laeâzel, and probably a week of shadowheart. but astarion? it seemed every time your tool of choice hit the paper he had been the outcome.
you werenât ashamed of it by any means. astarion is a gorgeous man, blood sucking monster or not. his eyes captivated you (as proven by the amount of drawings of them alone), and his voice had your attention like no other. if the nature of things were any different, you might be willing to confess you were in love with him.
so when the night came and everyone had fallen asleep but the two of you, and astarion had let it slip that he hadnât seen his reflection in two hundred years, your heart broke. he didnât know the way his curls hooked around his ears, or the way the corners of his mouth would turn up ever so slightly when heâd successfully kill a goblin. and his eyes, gods his eyes. youâd have to be dense to miss the way they light up at the very sight of you. knowing he didnât get to enjoy the very things you adore about him devastated you.
âwhat color were they before?â you asked, arms wrapped tightly around your legs to hug them close to your chest. âyour eyes, before you were turned.â your cheek pressed against your knee as you looked to him.
âmy eyes?â astarion sounded surprised youâd asked him such a thing. âi donât..i donât remember.â
that felt like the final nail in your coffin. your heart ached more for him now that it had before, if that were even possible. if he didnât remember his eye color, his hair color was probably long forgotten as well. it felt impossible to wrap your head around, you knew the shade of your eyes and tone of your hair by heart. the idea of forgetting it, well, you were sure youâd have to be dead to forget.
âwhatâs going on in that head of yours, darling?â his tone almost made you forget your sadness. it seemed anytime he spoke to you now his words were laced with honey, drawing you in and sticking to you.
âyou havenât seen yourself in two decades,â you repeat his previous words back to him, âyou hardly remember your own face, is that not the least bit devastating to you?â
astarion hesitated before replying to you, trying to chose his words carefully. âof course it is. but thereâs nothing i can do to change it, so why bother being upset?â
you chewed the inside of your cheek. of course you had the solution. you had probably close to twenty drawings of his face alone that could provide him some solace about the entire thing. but what if he thought you were weird for it? none of them knew of your little hobby, he could expose it to the others and they could cast you out for invading their privacy. and well, your infatuation toward him was nothing short of romantic. you werenât sure he needed to know that, but exposing your drawings to him would make it clear.
âi can feel your tadpole wriggling around, whatâs wrong, my sweet?â his voice sent a shiver down your spine before you finally managed to speak.
âlet me be your mirror,â you offered, raising your head from your knees. you could practically see his thought process, and you didnât miss the small smirk on his face. âwhat do you want to know?â
âi want to know what the world sees when it looks at me,â astarion held his usual cocky tone for a moment, but for a second it faultered. âwhat you see.â
âclose your eyes,â he obeyed, wondering what it was exactly you were making him close them for. it wasnât until he heard shuffling in your tent beside him that he opened them and called out to you confused.
âwhat are you doing? what in your tent could ever allow you to be my mirror?â
âhush, would you?â you roll your eyes at him as you step out from your shelter and back toward him. you took a deep breath before sitting back down next to him, offering him the pile of papers. âhere.â
for the first time since you had met him, astarion was speechless. he wasnât sure what he was expecting from you, maybe a few put together compliments for him to tease you about before leaving the conversation at that. but this? he had no idea that you could draw, let alone that youâd use such a talent to draw someone like him.
âi know it might be weird, sorry,â you hide your face from him, afraid of his reaction. âiâm sure it might not be comforting to know someone you had barely known until recently has been drawing you for-â
âi donât find it weird,â he interrupted you, gently grabbing your chin with his pointer finger and thumb, âlook at me,â guiding your eyes to his, astarion offered you a smile. not a cocky smile or his usual smirk, but rather a real smile. one you werenât sure youâd seen from him before. âthank youâŠfor this. theyâre beautiful. and iâŠi could never express my gratitude to you,â
you removed your chin from his hold and waved your hand at him, dismissing his words. âdonât say all that astarion. you make an amazing muse, itâd be criminal of me to not make use of that.â you chose to pretend the burning in your cheeks had been from the fire and not the blooming embarrassment.
âcriminal, hm?â it didnât take long for the astarion you had grown attached to to return, smirk plastered on his face. he leaned forward to press his forehead to yours before speaking again, his voice low and almost sultry, âwell we wouldnât want you to get arrested again, now would we, dove?â
âyou ruined the moment, astarion,â you huff, pulling your legs back to your chest to rest your head on your knees again. âitâs getting late. we should sleep.â
astarion nodded, standing from his place and offering you his hand to help you up. âyes, iâd hate for a lack of sleep to ruin your muse,â he teased again, handing you back your drawings. âiâll see you in the morning, darling.â
Goodness i dont know what to call this au đ Maybe itâs hundreds of years in to the future? Maybe Astarion meets Tav again after so much time has passed
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