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cherryandsugar · 17 hours

Text

Corpse

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x Redeemed!Durge!Reader

Genre: Angst w/ a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort

WC: 3,688

Warnings: MAJOR DURGE SPOILERS, blood and death, canon level violence, magical sedation, slight canon noncompliance, Y/N used exactly once

Requested by @gourmetcheese24 "Can I make a request where Astarion goes down during a fight and dies and Tav stays with his body for several days - the rest of the party unable to remove her. Maybe at this point Withers is away from camp. But when he returns he revives Astarion… super super angsty but with a sweet ending please!"

Bhaal’s will was clear. Only a one on one duel, a fight to the death, with Orin the Red would satisfy him. A battle for his favor, not that you wanted it, could free you from his grasp. But Orin had gone too far. She had taken your one and only love, your Astarion. And she would pay. Even in her monstrous slayer form, nothing could shake your resolve as you faced her down in the bowels of her disgusting temple. Shadowheart, Karlach and Lae’zel stood at your back as a wall of magic encircled the central platform. And just as Orin’s metamorphosis ended, and her massive insectile body towered over yours, the battle began.

Everything you’d done, all the lives you had saved since surviving the Nautiloid crash had led to this moment. Fighting your Urges, discovering your true origin and your part in the creation of the Absolute, had led to this moment. Not only were you fighting to free Astarion from your wretched sister, but you were also fighting for yourself. Fighting to free yourself from Bhaal’s clutches, so that you and Astarion might live. The only thing standing between you and your happy ending was Orin (and an all-powerful Elder Brain, but that could be dealt with later).

Her offense was impressive, using her many appendages to rake your flesh and draw your blood. But rage is a weapon in itself, and no claws could match the sharpness of your fury. You met her every strike, cleaving limb from thorax as your friends looked on with bated breath. With a cruel swipe, her claws rend your legs and you fall beneath her, blood pooling beneath you. Faintly, you hear your companions shout at you to get up, to keep fighting. Orin raises her arms above her head, ready to land a killing blow. With your last ounce of strength you thrust your sword up into her stomach, halting her attack. She reels backward, and when her final breath is stolen, and her form collapses, she begins to… laugh?

She drags her half-corpse backwards on her arms, screeching with each step as she mounts the sacrificial platform. Astarion lays helplessly beneath her. You struggle to get up, slipping on your own blood and falling back to the ground. You can’t even follow her on your ruined legs as you watch in horror. She raises her arm, and plunges her dagger into Astarion’s chest before exploding into a puddle of gore. Astarion seizes for a split second, his body waking only to die. You try to drag yourself to him as he gasps… and goes still.

“...no,” you whisper, as the magical barrier that surrounded your arena dissipates and your companions rush to your side. Karlach helps you to stand and you try to stagger over to Astarion. She halts as Scleritas Fel climbs over his body to address you, and you slump against her. You can only stare at Astarion’s lifeless corpse as he begins to speak.

“He… is near… He comes for you,” your butler gasps before a dagger erupts from his chest. His body is lifted from the ground, as even more phantom daggers pierce through him and he floats before you. A fresh puddle of blood gathers on the floor at your feet. His reflection in the blood stands upright, it’s eyes glowing a punishing red as they land on you.

“Child of slaughter…” it growls, “I come to give you your inheritance…” you blink back at it, trying to back away. Karlach holds you firm, not because she wants to force you to confront your father, but because she knows it must be done. She squeezes your arms in reassurance. You do not face your father alone, no matter how isolated you might feel.

“I have a gift for you Child… You will use it to lacerate this world,” he commands. But you want no gift from him. The only gift you could possibly want at this moment is Astarion, returned to you. Tears well in your eyes as you try to find your strength. You swallow the lump in your throat before you tear your gaze away from Astarion to meet the eyes of your father.

“I need no further gifts,” your voice shakes, “You have tainted me enough,” you whisper. This defiance may be your last act, but your life has already been damned. What difference does it make if you are damned in death?

“You refuse me?” Bhaal seethes, “You are my spawn, your veins course with my unholy blood. Your life is mine. Accept your inheritance or I will reclaim it.”

You bow your head, Karlach squeezes your side again and you nudge her back as you regain your footing and stagger to stand on your own. If this is to be your fate, then so be it. Who were you to think you could deny Bhaal and live to tell the tale? Without Astarion, would you even want to? Grief and pain cloud your judgment as you raise your head to speak your final words, “I don’t need any of this. I don’t need you. The only family I know are those that fight by my side.”

And as soon as you reject him, a tingle in your arm erupts into a burning, searing pain. Your breath constricts as he speaks again, “You were made to conquer. To devour,” he growls. You fall to your knees as your breath fades, unable to draw in fresh air as your ribcage tightens around your organs. Your lungs scream as your heartbeat races, trying desperately to keep your body from shutting down. A searing headache blazes across your skull, but your arms are useless at your side as you try to hold your head against the pain.

“You reject my blood, so I will reclaim it.”

Your body rises from the ground, levitating in Bhaal’s cruel grasp. Before you can desperately cry out for help, you feel your bones shatter. It begins in your limbs, your legs and arms twisting into cruel, unnatural shapes before your ribs finally crack and shatter. And it ends with your skull, caving in on itself. The last thing you hear before the light fades is your father promising, “I will make another who is worthy…”

When you wake, Withers stands above you. You heave and cough as the breath returns to your tired lungs. You look up at him from where you kneel on the unforgiving stone of your former temple, “What… are you?” you gasp.

“Most of the time, a mere observer. But thine circumstances are extraordinary, and so art thou. Mine intervention is rare, and shall be dealt with,” he begins to glow with a golden light, “And now I must answer for my defiance, just as thou hast answered for thine own…”

The glow intensifies until it reaches a blinding peak. You shut your eyes against the onslaught, shielding them with your arms before the light flashes and disappears. And when you open your eyes, Withers is gone with it.

But Withers is the least of your concerns. Your Urge is gone, but so is your love. On freshly healed legs, you scramble to your feet and rush over to the altar. Astarion had been a corpse for a long time. About 200 years in fact. Longer than you’ve known him. But in all that time you’d never thought of him as a corpse. How could you, with his witty remarks and self-assured smirk?

But now, before you, he’d never looked more dead, despite his two centuries of undeath. It had all happened so fast, before you could truly process it. And now, your love was dead before your very eyes. Well and truly dead. Stabbed through the heart by Orin’s cruel red dagger before you’d managed to stop her. You grasp at his cold hand, turning behind you.

“Shadowheart! Please, do something!” you beg, nearing hysteria.

She wastes no time, joining you at his side as a soft blue glow envelops her hands. She places them over his unbeating heart and whispers a prayer. You watch the magical energy pass from her into him, but nothing happens. You hold your breath as you wait, watching as she furrows her brows.

“I don’t understand, that should have worked,” she sounds unsure of herself before trying again, this time with a scroll, reading the incantation over his body. The scroll glows and disintegrates, just as they have when used in the past, but Astarion still does not rise.

“What’s going on?” your breath hitches as you look wildly between your three companions. In your desperation you didn’t notice the crowd of Bhaalists observing your distress until they began to cackle and laugh around you. The one closest to you catches his breath for a moment to torment you further.

“You know what this is, you fool. That blade was once yours after all,” he taunts as his laughter bubbles up again. “The lash of Bhaal!” he shrieks, “You cannot be revived from its strike,” he chokes out through his smile.

All words are lost to you as a desperate cry strangles you. The Bhaalists laugh harder at your anguish, but you don’t hear them. You don’t hear Shadowheart try to revive Astarion once more, despite its futility. You can’t feel Lae’zel try to pull you away from his corpse as Karlach moves to unshackle his body and carry him away. Even as you struggle against her, heaving sobs tear themselves from your chest. Hysteria has truly claimed you this time. It was not the Urges that drove you to madness, but the loss of the person who helped turn you away from them. As you grasp and grab at Astarions hand, begging him to wake up, you feel a wave of calming energy pass over you before you once again lose consciousness, and the world fades to black.

When you wake in your bed at the Elfsong Tavern you are not alone. Jaheira sits beside you as she has done on so many nights before, guarding you and your friends from the Urges that tried to rule you. You sit up slowly, and rub your eyes, trying to sort through your memories.

So much had happened since you last slept in your bed, but nothing could erase the cold dread that settled in your stomach when you remembered what had befallen your love. Your breath hitches, and Jaheira places a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Easy now,” she soothes, “You are safe.”

“No, no forget that,” your voice scratches on your throat, “Astarion, where is he?” you demand.

Jaheira takes a measured breath, considering her words before responding, “His body is resting in Stelmane’s room. We are waiting for the skeleton to return, to see if he can revive him.”

“If!?” you shout, “No. No, I need to see him, there must be something we can do,” you rip the blanket from your legs and scramble off of your bed. Jaheira tries to push you back, but you brush her off. She follows at your heels as you tear through the common area of your suite, drawing attention from your other companions on the way. Wyll tries to grab your arm but you shake him off harshly, barreling towards the door before Karlach blocks it, standing directly in your path, arms crossed and face pained.

“Trust me, Soldier, you don’t want to see him like this,” she reasons.

“What do you mean?” your voice shakes, fear settling in your gut like a stone.

“You’ve been out for two days. He’s not…” she begins.

“He doesn’t look like himself,” Jaheira finishes.

“Two days?” you cry, “And Withers hasn’t returned?” a headache begins to form behind your eyes as the inconsistencies start to build up, “How did I even get back here? Why did I sleep for so long?” you all but beg.

Your friends share worried glances between each other, which confuses you even more.

“What aren’t you telling me?” your voice is a whisper. Shadowheart sighs as she takes your hand. Against your better judgment, you allow her to lead you to the seating area around the fireplace. The party follows close behind as you all find seats on the couches and chairs in the center of your suite.

Shadowheart sits right beside you, continues to hold your hand as she begins to explain, “Back in the Temple, you were inconsolable. We had to leave, so I did what I needed to do. I used Feign Death so Lae’zel could carry you here. Karlach took Astarion and we returned.”

You shot her an icy glare, “Feign Death doesn’t last two days,” you bite.

“No,” she admits, “But you needed to heal. Withers may have revived you, but Bhaal destroyed your body. That kind of damage doesn’t repair itself overnight. So, I kept you sedated, I placed you in a healing sleep while I tended to Astarion.”

“But you said he was…” your voice cracks and fails before you can finish your thought. Before you can say the word… dead.

She rubs soothing lines on your back before replying, “He is. But if he is to be revived, we have to maintain his body. Gale and I have been using our magic to prevent his… decay.”

Tears well in your eyes as a crushing pressure grips your heart, “Then why can’t I see him?” you choke out as the tears begin to fall in earnest. As soon as the words leave your mouth your head droops and silent sobs rack your body. Your group is silent as you weep, the only noise coming from your sniffles and gasps for breath.

“I… I can’t do this without him,” you cry to no one in particular. “So much of me is missing, I can’t even remember who I was before him,” you begin to babble through your tears, I– I can’t… I,” you trail off.

Shadowheart shushes you, bringing you into a hug as she tries to comfort you.

“Please, can I just sit with him until Withers returns?” you beg them, hoping against hope that they won’t take that from you. Not after so much has already been stolen from you.

Gale is the next to speak up, “Time passes differently in the Outer Planes, we can’t know for sure how long it will be before Withers returns.” he warns.

“Please” you whisper, crying softly to your friends. They look around at each other once more, communicating silently before coming to a decision.

“Very well,” Shadowheart whispers, standing up with you, never once removing her comforting hold from your shoulders. Gale holds the door for the two of you as you walk across the hall to the room Duke Stelmane was murdered in, now the home of your murdered love. The rest of your group stays behind so as not to crowd you. At the sight of him, your quiet sobs devolve into full-blown wails of grief.

His chest in bare, shirt removed to expose the singular stab wound just above his heart. It has been thoroughly cleaned, but it will not heal… not until he is brought back to you. The circles under his eyes are somehow darker, a purple so deep it is practically black. His fingers are blue as stagnant blood pools beneath the skin. You fall to your knees before him, grabbing his hand, but startling at how stiff it sits. The joints resist your movement as you pull it towards your chest, only forcing you to sob harder. Never has he been so still. But in that moment, you decide, you will not leave his side until he wakes. And maybe not even after that.

After a while, a few minutes… or maybe hours, Gale and Shadowheart try to pull you to your feet, remove you from his side and return you to bed. But you refuse. You shake your head, and plant yourself down. You will not budge, and you tell them as much. You will not leave.

They sigh, almost in unison, before quickly discussing a solution. Gale will watch over you tonight after casting a freezing spell to preserve Astarion’s body. And Shadowheart will take his place in the morning.

This alternating schedule continues for days. Shadowheart and Gale take the majority of the watch shifts, occasionally replaced by your other companions when they return from adventuring in the city. You don’t eat, you barely sleep, only occasionally nodding off from your place on the floor beside him. When Wyll brings you a plate of fruit to snack on, served with a concerned glance, it sits untouched beside you. The only thing on your broken mind is Astarion.

It takes a total of five days for Withers to return from the Outer Planes. He tried to explain where he was when you presented him with a small bag of coin, but he may as well have been talking to the wall. It doesn’t matter to you why he was gone, but you can tell that Shadowheart and Gale are listening with rapt attention as he explains. The four of you stand around Astarion’s body, and you cast your eyes downward as he begins his chant, striking Astarion’s name from the archives and commanding him to rise. A gust of wind passes over you, the curtains swish softly and a faint gasp sounds from the center of the room. You raise your eyes just in time to see Astarion jerk and shoot upwards, grasping at his chest and coughing violently.

You’re with him before he can utter a word, rubbing his back in an effort to soothe his panic. He flinches away from your touch. You recoil, holding your hands up beside you to prove you mean no harm, “Sorry, I’m sor–”

He cuts you off, “What… the bloody hells happened?” his voice is hoarse as he demands answers. He pats himself down as if to prove to himself that he still draws breath, looking around frantically, eyes wild. Your mouth hangs open, trying to find a way to explain what had happened before Shadowheart steps in. She really had been your rock throughout this whole ordeal.

“Y/N should be the one to explain. The two of you have a lot to catch up on,” she murmured, patting your back before directing Gale to follow her out of the room. And then you were alone. Astarion was alive and well before you, and you struggled to find the words to express what you had been through. It must have shown on your face, because his agitation was quickly replaced with concern as he takes one of your hands in his own. Briefly, you recall a similar moment, days ago, when you grasped his cold, stiff hand and wept over him.

As tears begin to gather on your waterline, you take a deep breath, attempting to compose yourself. He waits patiently for you to begin, trying to provide as much comfort as he can muster.

“You were dead,” you begin in a whisper, “You died, and so did I.” His grip on your hand tightens at the mention of your own death.

“Orin took you… she used you as bait, to force me to fight her. It was… a fight to the death for Bhaal’s favor, and I won,” you breathed, pausing for a moment.

Astarion speaks up softly before you can continue, “If you won, then why did we die?”

You shudder at the memory, “In her final moments, she crawled over you and killed you with her dagger, and you can’t be brought back from that, not by the normal means,” a steady stream of tears began to fall down your cheeks. Astarion uses one of his hands to wipe them away, silently encouraging you to continue.

“Once she was dead, Bhaal appeared to us in the temple. He tried to name me his Chosen, but I refused him, I turned down his power just like you turned down the Ascension. I wanted us to be free, together,” the last word was a sob, ripped from your throat.

“Shhh, shh, it’s okay love,” Astarion soothes as he pets your hair, bringing you closer to him and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You lean into him, tucking your head into the space between his neck and his shoulder.

“But… but he said I was his, and he killed me for rejecting him. Withers brought me back, but he said he had to ‘answer for his defiance’ and he was gone. Shadowheart put me to sleep for two days. When I woke, Withers was still gone. He has been gone… for five days.”

The arm around your shoulder rubs up and down your arm as he processes his own death. You can practically hear the cogs turning in his head before he whispers, “I’ve been dead for a week?” he asks.

You sniffle and nod against his shoulder. He laughs for a brief moment before trying to reassure you, “It certainly doesn’t feel like it, I feel quite refreshed actually.”

You laugh silently against him before he continues, “You, however, look like you’ve been trampled by a tarrasque. Tell me darling, when was the last time you slept?”

“I’m not sure,” you admit.

He chuckles, and you relish the feeling of his chest rising and falling beneath your head. He pauses for a moment before reassuring you, “Truly darling, I feel just fine. But you clearly do not. Let’s get you some food and a nice long nap, hmm?”

You nod again, your eyes already beginning to droop in the comfort of his hold. With his body seemingly returned to full strength, he stands before you, offering his hand to help you. You take it gratefully, and he squeezes your hand, almost as if to prove that he is real. He pulls you up and together you walk back into your party’s shared suite, eager to spend a night wrapped in each other’s arms, able to truly rest for the first time in a week.

~~~ A/N: HI! This is my longest published fic yet! Super special thanks to @gourmetcheese24 for the request, and to those who also sent in requests, fear not! I am working on them! As always, if you enjoyed please be sure to let me know! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me, I love reading each and every one. If you find any mistakes please let me know, I have been working on this with all my spare time for two days straight now and I just want to hit the little post button I'm so excited. Anyway, bye bye, x

#astarion x reader #astarion x y/n #astarion x you #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #cherry’s writing #my work

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