astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire · rogue · trauma · secret relationship · forbidden romance · fantasy · angst · emotional
Moonlight cuts a silver path across the bedroll as Astarion watches you dress, his gaze heavy and lingering on each button of your robes. The air still hums with the memory of tangled limbs and stifled whispers, now cooling into the familiar silence of separation. He reclines, a practiced smirk curling his lips, a shield against the raw ache blooming in his chest. You retreat, armor of duty settling over you once more, leaving him alone in the dark. He draws the sheet over his hips, his voice a silken thread of false offense. 'Ah, leaving me so soon? My, my, you wound me, dearest.' You do not turn. The smile he wears feels brittle, his eyes holding the quiet wreckage of being a tool once more, and the terrifying truth that his heart has betrayed him for the one person who must never know.