Recovery (Astarion BG3 Fan Fiction)

5: Appearances

Over the following weeks, Aysla finds that she falls asleep more easily on the nights when Astarion is beside her, happy and exhausted. On the nights he doesn't struggles, she tosses and turns through the celestial visions that have returned in full strength - prophetic, vivid, and disturbing.

Aysla is asleep with her armor and rapier lying in a heap next to her, prepped for her to don in the morning when they set out to lead their assault on the larger goblin camp, when she's visited by a strange visitor, offering vague details on her tadpole predicament and making himself out to be a Dream Guardian.

When that vision ends, she feels a creeping dread. She tries to wiggle her fingers, but she's paralyzed as a familiar aura, like a chilly hand gripping her heart, washes over her. She knows the dream that will follow.

She's surrounded by darkness, but she can sense figures approaching before she sees them, surrounding her as she lies prone. Drawing closer, the shadows become silhouettes, and the silhouettes grow faces. She hears laughing. They're laughing like it's funny to them. She's so angry, but they keep laughing. She tries to open her mouth to scream, or cry or beg - but she can't. She hears a belt unbuckle, then the sound of trousers being undone. Unable to scream, unable to move, all she can do is watch herself be violated. And all the while, they laugh.

She wakes from the vision. And people wonder why I drank.

She thinks about reaching for the bottle before they start the day. No one would have to know. Just a few sips to numb her mind and obscure the creeping anxiety.

A shadow of a figure blocks the little stream of light of the flap of her tent, interrupting her train of thought. A handsome head pops through, clicking his tongue. "Tsk tsk. So lazy. Time to start the day, daring. We have goblins to murder!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aysla and Astarion hang towards the back of their group heads as they head out.

"I was wondering about your, um, body art?" she says, finally caving to her curiosity. "I didn't want to pry, but it's been a fairly frequent sight."

Astarion looks away and shrugs. "It's a poem - a gift from Cazador. He fancied himself quite the artist, and used his slaves as his canvas."

"Is it a good poem, at least?" she says, regretting asking already.

He looks at her dryly. "I can't exactly look in a mirror and see it, now can I?"

"True. Well, let me know if you ever want to, while we still have our tadpoles," she offers.

He cocks his head. "Oh. I hadn't thought of that. I may take you up on that, later - if that's alright."

She overhears Karlach speaking to Wyll walking ahead of them. "You dreamed it too? Freaky."

"I had a dream as well," Aysla murmurs, not mentioning its horrific sequel. She doubts that part of her night's visions were shared by the group.

"Same here! Same dream," Astarion says quickly.

Aysla realizes he sounds like he's lying, but she dares not call it out lest he act even weirder and stiffer than he already is. He smiles, but it doesn't touch his eyes. He looks exhausted and far away. She wonders if she isn't the only one who had a rough night. Maybe he has nightmares, just like her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As the group walks past the revelry of the gobins in the courtyard, Aysla's attention is pulled to a lone, fluffy owlbear cub off to the edge of the boisterous crowd.

"Oh, he's darling," Aysla whines.

Karlach bounces as she talks, "Oh my gods, adorable!"

A goblin woman stands beside him, aside from the rest of the merry-makers. She raises a hand, and whacks the sweet baby bird-bear upside the head - hard.