You didn’t know how it had happened or who was responsible, but the sight of Astarion as a bat—a fluffy, wine-bloated little creature with absurdly large ears, tiny red eyes, and a round belly—made you cast an exasperated glance at Gale. You wanted to slap the vampire-spawn-turned-bat, but instead, all you had was your frustration.

It had mostly been a day of rest, the group recovering their strength. Astarion, however, had enjoyed it in luxury. Whether it was curling up in Halsin’s chest or—worse—nestling into your hair like it was his personal nest, the bat seemed to have found every way to make himself comfortable. No matter how often you pleaded for him to return to his usual form, he’d give you an amused side-eye, flap his wings once in defiance, and carry on. Astarion tugged at your clothes, snuggling beneath them like a mischievous bedbug. His tiny chattering drove you to the brink. The climax of his antics came when he found his way beneath your shirt, fluttering as he made a nest in your cleavage.

When stray goblins attacked during the day, Astarion did nothing but hiss from his cozy nest in your chest, utterly undisturbed. But now, with the fire lit and the camp calm, the quiet of the evening was a small mercy. You sat on a log, holding your cup close to your chest, where Astarion nestled, lazily licking at the wine. Gale had retreated to his tent, Karlach, Wyll, and Shadowheart were chatting, Scratch playing around their legs with the owlbear cub, and Lae’zel was cleaning her weapon nearby. At last, peace.

You glanced down at Astarion, scratching his tiny head with a sigh. His little eyes blinked at you, all smug satisfaction.

"You know," you murmured, "I could've used a bit of help earlier. Maybe you could do something next time?"

Astarion gave a lazy flutter of his wings, his voice no more than a squeak of amusement. "Darling, I did the most important thing of all—I survived. You’re welcome."