#papastarion

[cucudoodles]

The way he‘d do this the moment the toddler becomes somewhat cognitively aware

[nyx-knox]

The Ancunín Family Portrait✨

Long ago, Evelyn began the tradition of annual portraits with Astarion to make up for living without a reflection. When the twins came along, Evelyn vehemently ensured the tradition lived on as formal family portraits since, being the bastard daughter, she was never included in her own family portraits growing up.

However, it eventually turned into a years-long bunny ear war between father and daughter and Evelyn has officially given up trying to end it.

If it can’t be a nice formal portrait, at least it’s an accurate one 😉

[seaofdaydreams]

Elysia: I know we want them to have standards but haven't you taken things too far?

Astarion: Nonsense, darling! Things are going according to plan marvelously!

I think about this headcanon often lol.

[littlejuicebox]

GINAAA MY GIRL!

Sending you a dadstarion prompt because you already know I LOVEEE your dadstarion content.

How did Tav find out she was pregnant with baby Gale? And how did Astarion react to the news?! Inquiring minds want to know.

To have and to hold.

Such a lovely prompt, my friend! Hope you like it!

Summary: Astarion turned mortal a few months ago, and this is his first-time experiencing illness of any kind. Unfortunately, as soon as he recovers, you start to show signs of sickness as well. Your condition is a bit different from his, though. (For more of this series check out the ‘Dadstarion’ section of my master list.)

Tags/Warnings: Dadstarion, domestic af, fluff, talk of illness, talk of vomiting, the mildest of angst with the mostest of comfort, pregnancy, etc.

A/N: I work in healthcare, not law, so I can’t guarantee the legalese is accurate lol.

Word count: 2.3K

-----

“Don’t come closer, darling, I’m disgusting.” Astarion groans from where you find him one morning, curled up on the bathroom floor.

It had been a few months since Gale of Waterdeep cast Wish, and from that moment until now the retired rogue had been a happy, healthy mortal. There were so many benefits to curing his vampirism that the elf never fully considered one of the major downsides… illness.

He’d never experienced a malady like this in his life. At least not in the one he could remember.

It’s horrible.

How had his little love or any of his friends endured this, more than once, in the past ten years?

Astarion is quite certain he contracted food poisoning from that questionable slab of salmon he ate at the Blushing Mermaid yesterday evening. He never did understand why you liked eating at that lowbrow tavern in the first place.

You crouch to examine your husband, pressing a soothing hand onto his forehead before running it down to cup his cheek.

“Astarion, my love, you have a fever.” You murmur, frowning with concern as you push sweaty curls from his face.

“Please make more obvious observations, dear,” Astarion gripes as he forces himself to sit up, still clutching his stomach. Gods, the vile churning in his gut is incessant.

He’s about to continue on with his quip, but the sudden urge to be sick forces the elf to shut up and scramble to the toilet. You hear the sounds of violent retching moments later.

“We are never going back to the Blushing Mermaid,” Astarion grumbles once the wave of illness subsides. His face is pressed against the toilet; all sense of decorum is gone. The rotten fish poisoning his insides won over any bits of pride he might have been clinging to.

You move to grab a wash rag, dampening it under the tap before kneeling back down by your husband.

“Poor thing,” You coo, folding the cloth in half before dabbing it against the back of Astarion’s neck, hoping to ease the fever.

The elf’s eyes flutter closed as he allows you to fawn over him for a moment. And then he groans and flicks his hand, palm faced downward, as if trying to shoo you away. His voice is hoarse when he says, “Just leave me here and go get ready for your meeting, darling. I’ll be fine.”

“In sickness and in health, remember?” You ask, running the cool cloth over Astarion’s face, causing him to sigh thankfully at the slight relief, “I’ll send word to the other Counsellors to inform them that I won’t be attending. You’ve never been ill before; I don’t want to leave you like this. Wyll can fill me in later.”

“Yes, ‘in sickness and in health’ and all that, darling, but those vows also included ‘until death do us part’ and I was an immortal vampire when we made them. So you were technically entering that verbal contract under false pretenses, which one could argue means it’s null and void. Go to the meeting, it’s—“

Astarion almost manages to finish his rambling legalese before more putrid liquid spews out of his mouth. When he’s finished vomiting, he whines again, any bit of stubborn resilience and feeble attempts at selflessness abandoned.

“On second thought, maybe you should stay here,” He says, his chest heaving with exertion as he clenches his eyes shut, “Please tell me you have a spell for this.”

“Unfortunately not, my love. I only have a spell for curses. Best I can do is half a bottle of Elixir of Health, some ginger-peppermint tea, and a bath.” You sigh, already crossing the bathroom on your way to the tub. You fiddle with the taps for a moment to start the bath and then begin to pour oils into the flowing water.

“Deal,” Your husband mutters, peeling off his sweat-soaked night shirt, “But none of that vile honey you got at the market here in town for my tea; I want the one Shadowheart and Lae’zel sent from Neverwinter.”

“Anything you say, Lord Ancunin.” You joke, rolling your eyes at your husband’s fussiness. He’d barely regained his sense of taste a few months ago and already favored upscale ingredients and meals, as if mortal food hadn’t been but ash in his mouth for two hundred years.

The elf glares at your insolence but doesn’t retort; he’s too busy trying to keep himself from vomiting again.

*

The following morning, Astarion wakes feeling much better. Practically brand new, in fact. It seems the potion and your strange flower child medicine must have done the trick. He sighs a breath of relief and then rolls to snuggle against you for a few more precious moments. He reaches his arms out and grasps at nothing but air.

The silver-haired elf immediately frowns and sits up. That’s exceptionally odd. You were not a morning person; you never had been in the ten years he’d known you. You always slept in longer than him, even in the wilds. On more than one occasion he’d had to lure you out of your nearly comatose slumber with the tempting smells of coffee and breakfast.

Astarion hears you gagging in the bathroom and goes to investigate. He soon finds you clinging to the toilet, practically mirroring how he looked the day prior.

“Oh no, little love, do you think you have food poisoning, too?” He questions, frowning slightly before kneeling down to press his hand against your forehead just like you’d done to him, “No fever, though.”

You whine, leaning into your husband’s hand before grumbling, “Damn the Blushing Mermaid straight to Stygia! Why do I even like that place, again?”

Astarion laughs, “I’ve been wondering the same thing for years, dear. I hope now you’ll finally reconsider. Do you want some tea and a bath?”

“Please,” You say, just before another wave of nausea hits you, forcing you to throw your head into the toilet and gag. Frustratingly, not much actually comes out despite the waves of sickness coursing through your body.

Gods, you wish you could simply vomit and feel relief.

Astarion begins to prepare the appropriate remedies, much like you’d done for him the day before. Thankfully, you seem to recover much faster than he did, and by midday you look and feel completely normal.

Good thing, too. You two were out of any elixirs that may have helped you had your ailment been as severe as Astarion's.

“Perhaps I’m just a better healer than you, darling.” The silver-haired elf teases as the two of you take afternoon tea in the sunroom.

“Perhaps I’m just stronger and more resilient than you, my love.” You retort, wrinkling your nose in jest at your husband.

He chuckles softly and then presses a kiss to your nose, “Agree to disagree.”

*

Astarion thinks the two of you are past this bit of bad luck, but when he wakes the following morning, he hears you retching once again.

When the elf finds you in the bathroom, appearing as almost an exact repeat of yesterday, though perhaps a bit worse, his brow furrows.

“Darling, I'm worried now. You look more ill than before. Perhaps we should take a trip to Jaheira? I can head to the apothecary for another Elixir of Health while she looks you over.” He murmurs gently, extending his hands to pull you to your feet.

You simply nod in agreement, too nauseated to do more than follow your husband’s lead as he slips you into a set of robes and ushers you into the carriage.

*

When Astarion returns to Jaheira’s after dashing out to the apothecary, he finds you sitting at the druid’s dining table. The two of you stop whatever hushed conversation you’d been having and turn to look at him in unison.

“Feeling any better, Tav?” He asks, coming to stand by your side before placing a worried hand upon your shoulder. You simply cover your hand with his and nod in response.

“Much better,” You say, flashing your husband a small smile. Something about your expression looks hazed, as if you’re stuck in a daydream. Poor thing, you're probably exhausted and experiencing brain fog.

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine with the teas and medicinals I’ve given you,” Jaheira assures, her eyes flickering between the two of you. She grins for the briefest moment before falling back into her typical, more serious demeanor.

Astarion swears he feels like something is off, but when he turns to give you a questioning look, you’re the picture of happiness as you sip from your tea cup, finishing it off.

Well, at least you’re doing what Jaheira has prescribed.

“What about the Elixir of Health I’ve just purchased?” Your husband asks, lifting the bag in his hand, “Will that help?”

“Oh, I recommend you keep it for something else. I don’t think Tav needs it for this,” The druid responds before standing, signaling it’s the end of the visit. She was always quite straight forward and lacking in certain genteel social graces, in Astarion’s opinion.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with the Harpers.”

You quickly bid your goodbyes and Astarion helps you back into the carriage, eager to get you back to bed so that you can sleep off the rest of this sickness.

*

Astarion notices you’re uncharacteristically quiet on the carriage ride home. He typically doesn’t mind when you’re in one of your pensive, stoic moods. But this illness of yours had him more anxious than usual and he had to know more about Jaheira’s examination results, if only to ease his own worries.

“Darling,” He starts, taking your hand in his. But you don’t seem to hear him; you’re still lost in your own little world.

“My love,” He says, this time a bit more urgently, squeezing your hand just enough to pull your attention to him, “What did Jaheira say, exactly? Did she mention how long this illness will last?”

“Oh, the nausea will probably go on for a few weeks,” You reply, a goofy, lopsided smile breaking across your face. You cannot stifle your grin at the little secret you know you’ll be unable to keep for more than a few moments longer.

“Weeks?” Astarion questions, his voice pitching up with worry and brows stitching together in concern.

Why in the hells are you smiling? What druid bullshit was in the tea Jaheira gave you?

He folds his arms across his chest, not at all pleased by the lack of seriousness you seem to display. The idea of you being sick for weeks makes his heart hurt and his stomach churn as if he’s still sick. He could never stand to see you uncomfortable.

“Tav, are you drugged? This is serious. I fail to see what there is to be smiling about right now. You’re going to be nauseous for weeks and you can’t use an Elixir of Health? Are you absolutely sure Jaheira even knows what she’s—“

“I’m pregnant, Astarion,” You interrupt, and you cannot help but to laugh at your husband as his mouth hangs open mid-sentence, frozen in shock.

He blinks for a moment or two, otherwise completely still as his brain rushes to process the new information.

When the elf finally regains his composure and finds his ability to speak, he shoots out a flustered, rambled, “Darling, I— I’m sorry, can you repeat that? I’m not certain I heard you correctly. The road is quite bumpy and the wheels of the carriage are loud— I think they need oil— and the horses—“

You laugh and firmly grasp your husband’s hand, wholly capturing his attention before murmuring, “You ridiculous elf. You heard me the first time. I’m pregnant, Astarion.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen a bigger grin cross your husband’s face.

“Tav, darling, I— gods, just come here to me.”

Astarion’s lips crash into yours, and he’s smiling into the kiss as he threads a hand through your hair, intent on pressing you closer into him. A tiny, delighted hum escapes your husband as he uses the kiss to express all the feelings he cannot yet put into words.

When he finally pulls away, he cups your face with his hands and peppers a few more kisses upon your lips.

“Is this your way of telling me you’re happy about this, Astarion?” You ask, grinning at your husband as he gazes upon you with the most besotted eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Thrilled, my love,” He whispers, before pressing forward to kiss you again, trying to convey the depth of his excitement with his affections. He doesn’t let go of you the rest of the way home, almost desperate to cover you in worshipful kisses, each one a little vow of love to you.

You notice he's unusually quiet, but then, he’s far too busy smiling and smooching to do much talking.

*

Later that evening, you move to get out of bed and head toward the bedchamber door.

“Ah, ah, ah. Where do you think you’re going, little love?” Astarion calls, already tossing his book aside to follow after you, “What do you need? Let me bring it to you.”

“I just wanted a cup of water, Astarion. I can go get—“ You start, but he quickly presses a kiss to your lips, effectively quieting you.

“Hush, my love. You’re still nauseated and you’re carrying very precious cargo.” He gently chastises as he turns you by your shoulders and steers you back toward the bed.

“You’re being dramatic,” You grumble, sitting back down in the bed and wrinkling your nose at your husband.

“Perhaps,” He agrees, grinning down at you as he gently folds the blankets back around your legs, “But you knew exactly the type of theatrics you signed up for when you married me, darling. 'To have and to hold, to love and to cherish' and all that, hm?”

And in that moment, Astarion was certain he’d never love and cherish anything more than you.

Nine months later, the little silver-haired newborn he held in his arms would prove him wrong.

[foxandfangs]

Little lady, tiny star.

She’s got her papa’s eyes. At least he thinks so.

[magicalcorvid]

Some dadstarion for the soul. In my post-game headcanon, him and my Durge Nora renovate the crimson palace and live there after killing Cazador so they can keep an eye on the spawn sanctuary and live a peaceful life. A few years post-canon, they have a daughter named Talia who is a little terror but very loved. He makes a great girl dad.

For this, I imagine that he probably had some extra fabric and decided to make matching outfits for him and Talia.

[dell-amor-te-main]

I know everyone has their different takes on Astarion’s character, and what they think his story should look like/what he would or wouldn’t do with his life after the events of the game, and I think they’re all valid. And not everyone is going to like your read or what you want him to pursue or be like after all is said and done. And there’s nothing wrong with that! Could you imagine how boring things would be if we all agreed? I personally love seeing the diversity of takes.

That being said, I am very much a fan of the idea of non-Ascended Astarion starting a family after everything, just me personally. Now, I know that’s a whole can of worms for people who don’t like that concept or who don’t like the idea of kids/pregnancy in their fiction. That’s completely fine. Funnily enough, I have no desire to have my own kids, but I love exploring that sort of lifestyle and the dynamic it creates when it comes to my characters in my own writing.

And I do think he wants kids, in my world state (to borrow a Dragon Age term), anyway.

I always go back to Astarion’s confession, when he says he wants “something real.” All those years where sex and love were nothing but a performance to seduce people and lure them to what he thought was their death. And now, with Tav/Durge, he wants the real thing. He wants to love and be loved.

He says he doesn’t know what “real” looks like anymore, which means he’s got to figure it out. And we know he isn’t much for plans, so that means a lot of what he learns is learned as he goes. That must extend to learning what he wants, too.

“I Want to Live” is the song that is consistently played in relation to his character development (despite being the players song.) Want. For all of those years, he was told by Cazador that he and his fellow spawn were a family. If he doesn’t ascend, then what he desires, and discovering what he wants, and taking what was false for so long and learning what the real version of it looks like to him all come together to make it easy for me to see him enjoying fatherhood.

He wouldn’t be Astarion without that prickly personality of his, but as his relationship with Tav/Durge progresses, you get to see the softness and sweetness he has in him, too. And I believe he really does mean it when he says he wants to protect them. He does genuinely care, as sarcastic and standoffish as he can be. That’s part of his personality and his character arc.

Now, do I think he likes all kids? Not at all. I think he likes certain kids, and for certain reasons. He may not encourage taking in Yenna, but he does insist on saving her from Orin. He seems to have a high opinion of Arabella. It depends on the kid. In a strange way, I think his own personhood being taken from him has made him view kids as more individual than most people tend to.

And I think he would adore his own kids because of who they are. They’re proof of how far he’s come, they’re proof that he’s alive and he’s living and that Cazador didn’t win in the end. He’s here. He won. He’s growing past everything.

And, most importantly: they’re his kid(s.)

Do I think he’s ever considered having children prior to having one, even before he was turned? I doubt it, honestly. But especially prior to his vampirism, I don’t think it matters whether he did or not. He can’t remember what color his eyes were, let alone what he wanted or who he was. And it doesn’t matter, he makes that much clear. He isn’t that person anymore, and he won’t ever get to be them again. So whether he had thought about children specifically or not, whether he wanted them or not, I don’t think that matters to him anymore.

He never saw himself as a hero, either, but he’s a Hero of Baldur’s Gate now. He cares. In his own way. And he defines and does things his own way in his life now. He’s still not your stereotypical hero, but he’s also no longer your stereotypical vampire. He wouldn’t be Astarion if he was easy to define. And after everything, he is still Astarion. He’s complex, and he can be quite contradictory and inconsistent. That’s both part of his personality and a result of the 200 years of trauma he survived, I think.

And again, he’s also not one for plans. I don’t think he considers being a father until Tav/Durge is telling him that he’s going to be one. And that kind of life-changing news can rattle even the people who have planned for it and wanted it their whole lives. Sure, I think it takes some getting used to, and I’m sure there are complex feelings that come with it. Rediscovering yourself and building a life are never easy. Living isn’t easy.

But this is another part of the life he’s living—really living. This isn’t the mockery Cazador forced the spawn to play pretend in, it’s a real family, his family. And I think that means everything to the person he chooses to be now.

[riza-hawks-eye]

I like the idea of Girldad Astarion bc you just know that he's going to raise the most evil Mean Girl ever.

Like if Regina George and Jennifer from Jennifer's body had an anti-christ baby on the 6th of June 2006 with Vampire and elf powers.