Not Without You
Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3
Pairing: Astarion x Reader
Rating: Mature
Tags: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Fighting, Various Weapons, Arrow Wound, Blood, Wound Care, Barely Conscious, Losing Consciousness, Spawn Astarion (He might be a little OOC here), Explicit Language
Word Count: Around 1100
Written For: @badthingshappenbingo @fandom-free-bingo @fluffyjuly @whumpmasinjuly-archive
Squares/Prompts Filled: N3 - Shot With An Arrow for BTHB | Card B: O2 - Stealing From Thieves for Fandom Free Bingo: Virtues and Vices Edition | Fluffy July Day 30 - "Listen to my heartbeat." | Whumpmas In July Day 30 - "Brace yourself."
Dividers By: @/saradika-graphics
The plan had been straightforward.
Just a simple repossession of stolen material to its rightful owner.
The goods stolen from a traveling cleric caravan were valuable, but nothing sacred enough to risk your lives over. or so you thought. Still, your group had agreed to recover them, more for goodwill than gold. A mission to restore faith, not test it.
But the moment you breached the thieves' hidden stronghold, carved deep into the moss-choked cliffs north of Rivington, you realized something was wrong.
Too many guards.
Too much coordination.
And one too many eyes watching from the shadows.
You’d been right to flank with Astarion. He’d insisted, of course. “Darling, you might be a clever little minx with a blade,” he’d said, tracing your jaw with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes, “but you bleed far too easily for my liking.”
You thought it was just another dramatic line.
You didn’t realize how true it would become.
The battle broke loose like a thunderclap. You were fast, slipping between cover, throwing daggers, your magic sparking with practiced ease. Astarion was faster. A blur of death and destruction, slashing through thieves with a grin that bordered on gleeful.
The first wave fell easily.
Then came the second.
A rogue archer, clever bastard, had taken position on the crumbling ledge above, half-hidden behind debris and brambles.
You never saw him.
The arrow tore through your side like a burning brand, lodging deep beneath your ribs. You gasped, staggered, and fell hard, your daggers clattering against the stone.
Time stuttered.
You didn’t scream.
But Astarion did.
“NO!”
It wasn’t his usual sardonic drawl, no mocking lilt. It was raw. Terrifying. A sound you’d never heard from him before.
He didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. One second he was beside you, the next, gone in a crack of displaced air. The vampire spawn misty stepped straight onto the ledge, fury given form.
Astarion butchered the archer.
There was no grace, no precision. Just rage. He drove his blades into the man’s chest over and over, blood spraying his pale face and silver hair. You weren’t sure when the body stopped moving. Astarion didn’t seem to notice or care.
By the time the others reached you, the battle was over, but the real war had only just begun.
You were too pale.
Your skin clammy and slick with sweat, eyes glassy with pain. You were trying to sit up, but your limbs shook uncontrollably. The arrow was still in you, buried to the fletching.
“Stop moving,” Astarion growled, kneeling beside you, voice taut with terror. “You’ll make it worse.”
“I…I didn’t see him…” You choked, blood staining your lips.
“Shh. Don’t speak.” His hands hovered, unsure where to touch without hurting you more.
And then-
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
Astarion stared at you, as if you’d just said something unspeakable.
“Sorry?” he echoed. “Why in all the bleeding Hells would you apologize to me?!”
“I should’ve...should’ve dodged, or-”
“You were ambushed,” he snapped, voice trembling. “Do not apologize for bleeding. Do not apologize for hurting. Gods, why must you always-"
He cut himself off, jaw clenched so tight it clicked. His hands shook as he lifted you into his arms.
“I’m taking you back to camp. Right now. I can’t treat this here.”
The journey was agony.
Each step jolted the arrow. You buried your face in his chest, trying not to scream, your fingers clutching at his shirt. He whispered to you the entire way, frantic, disjointed things.
“I can’t lose you.”
“You’re mine...you promised.”
“This world isn’t worth a damn without you in it.”
His tone was different than usual. Not teasing. Not playful. Terrified.
By the time you reached camp, you could hardly hold your head up. He didn’t bother with tents or audience, he lay you down on the closest bedroll and immediately set to work.
Karlach reached out with a hand, her voice gentle. “Astarion-”
“No!” he snarled. “Don’t touch her. I’ll handle this.”
Even Shadowheart, no stranger to triage, backed away. She saw something in his eyes, something feral.
Astarion knelt beside you, covered in blood. Yours. Theirs. His own, maybe.
“This is going to hurt,” he said, voice shaking.
You nodded faintly.
“I need you to be brave for me, my love.”
You were always brave for him.
“Brace yourself.”
He gripped the arrow and yanked.
The pain was worse than anything you’d ever known. It stole your scream. The agony flared white-hot, your body twisting before going limp with shock.
You didn’t hear yourself sob.
But he did.
And it broke him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, over and over. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”
He worked quickly, binding and stitching with shaking hands. The blood wouldn’t stop. His breath caught in his throat more than once. You kept fading in and out, consciousness slippery as water through your fingers.
The wound was deep, but no longer bleeding. He’d cleaned and dressed it as best he could, muttering quiet oaths under his breath the entire time. Your face had gone pale again. Not just from blood loss this time, but from exhaustion. From everything.
He lay beside you on the bedroll, carefully maneuvering your body so that your head rested against his bare chest. His hand gently smoothed down your hair as your breathing evened out, little by little.
The pain was still there, he could feel every wince, every twitch, but you were safe now. And he wasn’t letting go.
His arms wrapped tightly around you, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.
“I can’t lose you,” he said again, hoarse. “Not you. Not after everything.”
You reached for him with trembling fingers, brushing blood from his cheek. “I’m here…”
It was steady and strong.
“You nearly weren’t.”
He brought your head to his chest. “Listen to my heartbeat,” he whispered.
For centuries, it had been silent.
But now it beats, and it beats for you.
“You gave that back to me,” he murmured into your hair, voice barely more than a breath. “I didn’t even realize how empty I was until you loved me.”
You made a sleepy sound against him, not quite words, just a soft acknowledgement that you were still there. Still listening. He smiled, heart aching.
“My fierce, reckless little light,” he whispered. “I’ve faced monsters. Gods. Death itself. But nothing frightens me the way the thought of losing you does.”
He brushed his lips across your temple. You didn’t move, but he felt your fingers tighten just a little over his chest, like you were grounding yourself in the sound of him. The beat of him.
“I would tear this world apart for you,” he continued, his voice gentler now. “But I’d rather keep it whole…if it means I get more nights like this. Holding you. Feeling your warmth. Listening to you breathe.”
You let out a soft sigh and curled further into his embrace.
Astarion cradled you like a precious, delicate treasure, like you might disappear if he loosened his grip even an inch.
“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered. “So damn proud. You fought so bravely today. Yet even after all that, you were still worried about upsetting me.”
He laughed softly, full of wonder and heartbreak.
“You absolute fool,” he said, smiling into your hair. “How did I ever deserve you?”
The stars glittered overhead. The fire had burned low, casting soft shadows across the camp. The others were silent. The danger had passed.
And here, wrapped up in his arms, your ear over his heart, you were safe.
“You don’t have to be brave anymore, my love,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Not here. Not with me. I’ll be brave for the both of us.”
He kissed the top of your head softly.
“Sleep now,” he whispered. “Sleep, and dream sweetly. I’ll be here when you wake.”
You drifted off to the sound of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.
And Astarion didn’t move, not even once. He held you all through the night, whispering soft promises against your hair, until dawn lit the sky.
You woke slowly, like surfacing from the depths of a dream you weren’t quite ready to leave.
The ache in your side was sharp but dulled, bandaged tightly beneath your nightshirt. But what you felt first wasn’t pain, it was warmth.
Astarion’s arms wrapped around you, his fingers gently brushing along your waist. His chest pressed against your back, rising and falling in a calm, steady rhythm. His cheek rested in your hair, and his breath ghosted across your neck.
For a moment, you didn’t move.
Neither did he.
“You’re awake,” he whispered, his voice already thick with emotion. “Thank the gods.”
You turned your head slightly and felt him shift, gently guiding you to lie on your back. His hand hovered protectively over your bandaged side. His eyes were bloodshot, and his usually pristine hair was slightly mussed.
“You didn’t sleep,” you said softly, fingers brushing his cheek.
“Didn’t want to.” He smiled, tired but sincere. “I was too afraid I’d close my eyes and…wake up without you.”
You opened your mouth to reassure him, but he leaned down and pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead.
“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry again,” he whispered against your skin. “You’ve already apologized far too much for getting shot. You were brilliant yesterday, even if you scared me half to death.”
You smiled faintly, the corner of your mouth tugging up.
“I’ll accept one thing, though,” he added, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “An agreement that you’ll let me fuss over you now. Just for today.”
You laughed, soft and hoarse. “Just today?”
He grinned, and gods, it was the most beautiful thing you’d seen. “Fine. Tomorrow, too. And maybe the rest of eternity.”
He sat up slowly, slipping out from under the bedroll to grab a fresh set of supplies from a nearby pack. His shirt hung open, his chest covered in faint bruises and bloodstains that had long since dried.
“I’m going to redress the wound, my sweet,” he murmured as he knelt beside you again. “It may hurt a bit, but I’ll be careful.”
You nodded, your trust absolute.
He helped you sit up slowly, sliding in behind you so you could lean against his chest as he worked. His fingers were delicate as he unwound the old bandage, his brows furrowed with concentration.
When you winced, he immediately paused.
“Sorry,” you breathed.
“Ah-ah.” He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “None of that. You’re allowed to hurt. You’re allowed to be soft. That’s what I’m here for now. To care for you.”
He gently cleaned the wound, whispering little nothings as he worked.
“You’re so brave.”
“I’ve never known anyone like you.”
“You terrify me in all the best ways.”
You let your eyes flutter shut, soaking in his voice, the way his fingers moved so gently across your skin. When he finished re-bandaging the wound, he pressed a lingering kiss to the center of your back, just above the dressing.
“Finished,” he murmured. “You did perfectly.”
He helped you lie back down and climbed in beside you again, pulling you back into his arms as if you belonged there.
“You’re still shaking,” you whispered, resting your hand on his chest again.
“I know.” His voice cracked. “I’ll stop eventually. I just…need you closer a little longer.”
You tilted your chin, and he understood instantly, his lips met yours in a slow, gentle kiss. Nothing hungry. Just soft. Full of relief and devotion.
He cupped your face in his palm, brushing your cheek with his thumb.
“You’re mine,” he whispered against your lips. “And I’m yours. No more pretending otherwise.”
“No more pretending,” you agreed, your voice breaking just a little.
He kissed you again. And again. Pressing them to your forehead, your nose, the corners of your mouth.
Then he held you tight and tucked you against his chest, letting your ear rest over the sound of his still-beating heart.
“Sleep a little longer, my darling,” he whispered, stroking your back. “The world can wait.”
And with his heartbeat in your ear and his lips in your hair, you drifted back to sleep.
Safe. Loved. Home.
Astarion Tag List: @kashii9652 @labyrinth-runner
