You noticed him missing from camp one afternoon. Not unusual, exactly — Astarion was often wandering, scouting, or simply vanishing when he needed space — but this time felt… different. When he returned, there was a strange look in his eyes: a glimmer of mischief poorly disguising something far more uncertain.

You didn’t push. Not right away.

Later that night, as you sat by the fire untangling your hair with your fingers, you felt him settle down beside you — too casual, too close — as if he was trying to act normal but wasn’t.

You turned to him, raising a brow in silent question.

He cleared his throat. And then, without preamble, thrust a small, glinting object toward you.

“Here,” he said gruffly. “For you.”

You blinked, caught completely off-guard.

In his hand lay a bracelet — delicate but strong, braided silver strands entwined with tiny garnet beads that caught the firelight and gleamed blood-red.

It was beautiful. And clearly hand-crafted — not perfect, but painstakingly made.

You stared at it, then at him.

Astarion looked almost… nervous. Like he was waiting for you to laugh at him.

He scoffed before you could speak, tossing his head dramatically.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said, voice laced with exaggerated smugness. “I’m simply ensuring my favorite companion doesn’t get eaten by anything before I have the chance to grow properly sick of you.”

You laughed, clutching the bracelet to your chest like it was a treasure.

“Is it enchanted?” you teased. “Vampire-repelling? Monster-proof?”

He flashed his fangs at you in a wicked grin.

“Vampire-proof, certainly,” he said. “Silver, you see. Very stylish. Very practical.”

You shook your head, beaming, heart aching with affection.

“Astarion,” you said softly. “It’s beautiful.”

He faltered — just a flicker, but enough. Enough to show you how much it meant to him.

“Yes, well,” he said, clearing his throat again, suddenly finding something extremely interesting in the fire. “I figured… since you insist on being such a foolish, reckless, aggravatingly lovable thing — you might as well look good doing it.”