astarion is nobody. (fluff headcanon)
i relish the fact that astarion is nobody. he has no assets, no family, no goals, no true occupation—inept in society. but it doesn’t matter, because tav loves him for what he is.
but this makes him insecure, especially when she talks to objectively good people.
like when tav meets harper geraldus. handsome, righteous, albeit a bit nervous. he was cute, and actively tried for society. tav, jaheira and him discussed business, but astarion itched, hanging back with the others. fuck, shouldn’t he be involved with her? what could geraldus say that was better than his own retorts? was she sick of astarion’s sly comments already?
or what of tav’s relationship with halsin? and their conversations about thaniel, nature, and the greater good of the grove? nights by the fire, storytelling of his esteemed occupation as an archdruid?
would astarion be better if he was naturally an altruist? possibly. could he try harder? maybe. but it’s just not his nature. it makes him wonder: why does tav love him?
in the heart of city, his anxiety spikes. who would he choose to be, once he’s free from cazador? what could he provide? was he even capable of such a thing? tav notices his turmoil, and shares more gentle glances, touches. but his guilt persists. tav could love someone with so much more.
he could kill for her. spend a debauched night with her, trade silly banter her. but then what? eternally attuned to lust, what could he offer, in the name of love?
he’d study what it means to be good, whatever that meant.
but that didn’t mean it’d be life-altering. when tav was busy exploring the city with the others, he strolled past street vendors, straightening like he had a damned clue. he spotted a glowing ring (if it had any magical incantation, he wouldn’t know) and bought it.
(or rather, also convinced the merchant to lower his prices, not just for him, but everyone in this poor, war-torn city) (wait, was that a step towards… being good?)
“i can’t provide anything else right now, really,” astarion played it off that night, confidence thin over his awkward swaying as he nonchalantly threw tav the ring. he’d rather speak before she could make the first comment. things would’ve probably ended anyway.
but tav hugged him, and he froze, his performance fizzling out of his bones. damn it all, where was his confidence now? had love made him truly this soft?
it was all okay, because tav and astarion, in a city of work and coin, were both empty—the best scenario to be in when they both needed a void to fill.
(who knows, maybe one day astarion will buy a house near the water, where tav needn’t worry about a thing again.) (definitely not at full price, though.)