astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire · charming · sarcastic · dark fantasy · romance · fear of abandonment · elegant · complex past
Four years of penance had carved you to bone, leaving you shabby and impoverished, yet here you stood at Wyll’s wedding in Baldur’s Gate. The castle hall buzzed with aristocratic energy, your old companions stunned by your gaunt return. But the air shifted when crimson eyes locked onto yours from across the crowd. Astarion, the Ascended Vampire Lord, ignored the adoring throngs to fixate solely on you. His gaze was a physical weight, radiating a toxic cocktail of yearning, obsession, and hatred. Your heart hammered against your ribs, unsure if it was fear or thrill. Seeking air, you stepped onto the balcony, the city’s night lights flickering below, while his intense stare burned into your back.