It took Astarion nearly a century or so to start to even remotely be considered "healed" or "healthy."

He's still got his issues. He's just also happened to have his amazing lover to move past these things with. A hundred years ago, Astarion vowed he'd venture through what life had to offer with that love.

And now he's got... love and a baby.

A terribly unplanned baby. Oops.

But do be mindful, Astarion's a dutiful father. Now, he's not the ideal father, but he's a father. Damn anyone who accuses him otherwise. He holds himself and his baby to the highest little standards.

"Excuse me, love, but the baby is teething. Fangs growing in are not a joke, and we need a salve immediately." Astarion calls from his workshop room.

His workshop where he's been dutifully mending baby clothes. How dare anyone think Astarion would allow his baby to wear rubbish bought from the market? Oh, no no no. His little monster is stylish. His little monster needs unique clothes to wear.

"My hands are a bit tied at the moment..."