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Astarion knew your birthday was coming up, but he didn’t know what to get you. What did you want that you already didn’t have? You already seemed rather content with whatever you had, and you barely glanced at trinkets in the markets, content with whatever loot you found during the journey. He was at quite the loss for in the romance books he had read, flowers, jewellery, perfume had been the typical gifts given and yet you had never quite been inclined towards such things.
“Astarion? Is something wrong?”
He blinks, startled and realises that you’re standing right in front of him.
“Oh, it’s nothing darling, don’t you worry,” he smiles, gently cupping your cheek. He presses a kiss to your forehead, thumb gliding over your skin. You frown but don’t press the matter further. If he was comfortable with telling you about it, he would share it with you. You weren’t going to make him uncomfortable by forcing him to tell you what was on his mind.
“Just…know that you can tell me anything, alright?” You ask worriedly, giving his hand a squeeze. He nods, lifting your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles. You smile, pulling him in for a hug and he nuzzles you in return, happy about the small act of love.
“I’ll see you later tonight,” you lean in for a kiss on the lips before quickly pulling away to head off with Wyll to scout the area ahead. He watches you go, an imprint of your warmth lingering on his skin and heads back inside his tent, trying to ignore the way his undead heart pounds against his chest, words stuck in his throat.
He spends the next few days wracking his brain on what to get you for your birthday while taking out his frustrations on the poor goblins the party encountered along the way until one day, he found something that had caught your attention. Of all things, it had to be some mediocre cloak.
“What’s so interesting about that…thing?” Astarion frowns. “I could purchase a cloak made with far better quality elsewhere.”
“But it’s handmade! It’s a product of someone’s hard work, time, effort and heart! How could you not appreciate it!” You huff, handing over the gold to the grateful merchant and hug the cloak close to your chest, smiling brightly. Astarion rolls his eyes and pulls you along before you can spend more gold on ‘mediocre items’, but this encounter has given him an idea of what to gift you for your birthday.
The moment the two of you reach camp, he slips into his tent and sneaks out the sewing kit he has stashed away in the deepest depths. A number of items he can sew for you run through his mind, but the one thing that nags away at his mind is a scarf. It has not escaped his notice how you often shiver on chilly nights, brushing it off whenever Karlach confronts you about it. He never misses how you jump whenever he touches your bare skin on such nights before giving him a reassuring smile and leaning into the touch despite the chill.
So he begins sewing a scarf, weaving it together with fabrics of your favourite colours whenever the party decides to set up camp for the night.
You raise an eyebrow when Astarion hastily disappears into his tent without even saying a word to you for the third night in a row, wondering what is going on. The first two nights you let the issue slide, thinking that he just needed some space to process whatever was going on in his head, but this was the third night and it was getting worrying.
Making your way to his tent, you pause outside the flap, wondering if by doing this you’re intruding on his privacy but decide you’d rather risk getting yelled at for sticking your nose into his business than let his potentially dark thoughts consume him.
“Astarion? I’m coming in!” You call before lifting up the tent flap, hearing a small commotion as you step in but are only greeted with the sight of Astarion holding a book, sitting on his bedroll with a smile.
“Hello, dearest.” He’s sitting rather stiffly for someone who ‘has been reading for the past however long’, stirring suspicion within you but you pretend that you haven’t noticed anything, hoping that you can coax whatever it was out of him.
“You haven’t been feeding lately.” You start off with a simple comment to lower his guard.
“There are plenty of bears around these woods, darling, don’t you worry.”
“I thought you said bear blood isn’t as tasty as mine?”
“You have been rather busy as of late, darling. I didn’t want to tire you further.”
“You’re the one who has been rather busy as of late, disappearing into your tent immediately after we set up camp.” You point out, arms folded across your chest. “Is there something that’s bothering you?”
“No?” He blinks, “I’ve just been rather engrossed in this book as of late.”
“So engrossed that you can’t even set aside some time to spend with me?”
Oh. He screwed up.
“I didn’t mean to —”
“Am I really less interesting than a book?”
“Of course not!” Astarion shifts anxiously. Was he going to lose whatever was going on between the both of you? He hadn’t thought about how his fixation on getting that scarf sewn on time for your birthday would affect you, the message his actions would send you, and how…all he wanted was to make you happy.
Your gaze softens and you apologise for being so harsh with him, which he automatically brushes off with a fake smile and a laugh, saying that it was alright but you could tell you had set something off in the deep recesses of his mind.
“Astarion.” You say gently.
“Yes darling?”
“Please tell me if I’ve hurt you. I never intend to, but I need to know if I have so that I won’t repeat it again,” you plead, worry gnawing at your insides. What if his guard was back up, leaving him alone with his own mind that tore him apart? What if he was pushing you away, you couldn’t imagine a life without him in every facet of it. What if he had grown tired of you, or worse, afraid of you? You didn’t want to lose the bond so painstakingly forged and greatly cherished, the very thought that he would leave scared you far more than anything in the world.
“It’s not that!” He quickly stands to his feet, swiftly closing the distance and wraps his arms around you tightly. “It’s…nothing, I promise. Don’t leave me.”
He whispers the last part but you catch it anyways. Burying your face into his chest, you wrap your arms around him as well, breathing in his scent.
“I won’t ever leave you, you’re my star, I’m lost without you.”
His eyes widen for a fraction of a second and a wide smile graces his face, a smile you cannot see and he doesn’t want you to see. A giddy feeling bubbles within his chest, he had never thought he would ever find anyone who would love him, and yet here he was, standing in the arms of someone who considered him their everything.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, the half-sewn scarf left forgotten. He would much rather spend the rest of the night with you, in your embrace and so he does, happily purring away when you massage his scalp and pressing as many kisses as he possibly can to your face.
Your worries are washed away when you see him relax like this, slipping into a trance whilst he’s curled up against you. Maybe you were worried about nothing after all. You run your fingers through his soft silvery curls, humming a lullaby you remember from your childhood as you feel sleep claim you and you drift off soon after, burning the image of a trancing Astarion into your mind.
You and Astarion fall into a routine in the following days where he would spend the first half of the night alone in his tent, doing whatever secret private thing he was doing and then he would move over to your tent for the remainder of the night, spending it either cuddling or reading with you. It was an agreement the both of you were satisfied with, and the whole party was relieved that the tension had faded. Bit by bit Astarion inched closer towards a finished scarf, and the night before your birthday, he finally had the complete product.
“Finally!” He groaned, collapsing onto his bedroll. It wasn’t the best scarf he’d ever seen, but it was decent enough, at least for his standards. Then the doubt started creeping in. Would you like it? Would you wear it? What if all the effort he had put into making the scarf was for naught? But then he remembers how until now, you’ve been wearing that mediocre cloak you had bought because it was handmade and it reassures him a little. He wouldn’t know how you felt about his scarf until he gifted it to you.
When the sun rose on your big day, Astarion waited until the others had said their well wishes and given you their gifts before approaching you.
“Y/N.” He says.
“Yes, Star?” You tilt your head in confusion. He rarely called you by your name, and when he did it was usually a serious matter.
“Happy birthday,” he says quickly, embarrassed as he thrusts a neatly wrapped package into your arms.
You beam, eagerly tearing it open and gasp when you see what lies inside.
“A scarf! I’ve been meaning to get one!” You cheer. “Thank you, Star! Really!”
His heart warms at your words, his lips curling up slightly as he watches you struggle to put it on.
“Would you like some help with that, my love?” He reaches over anyways, untangling you from the fabric and expertly wraps it around your neck before finishing it with a peck to your fore head. “There, done.”
You happily twirl around, playing with the ends of your scarf and giggle, throwing yourself at the vampire.
“Thank you so much!”
“Anytime, love.”
“Where did you buy this from?” You ask, happily burying your face into the soft fabric.
“I…I made it myself,” he mumbles, twiddling his fingers.
“You did? It must have taken so long to make this! That makes it even more precious!” You hug him tightly.
“I’m glad you like it,” he kisses the top of your head, all worry long washed away.
“Of couse I do. Anything you give me, I like it.” You grin up at him. “Now, can we spend the rest of the day together?”
“I would like nothing more, my love.”