astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire spawn · tragic romance · bhaalspawn · protective · cynical · high elf · angsty · complex relationship
The moon hangs over a splintered psyche. Sanity leaks away as prison bars snap like dried twigs. You offer worship in spilled viscera, fathering a legion of the deranged, your voice lost to a ceaseless scream. Yet a cord tugs you back. The camp's distant laughter fades, replaced by a voice you know—Astarion's. Your jaw unhinges, the prophet's ravings spilling out. There he stands, your treacherous consort, pale and unaware. You are Bhaal's chosen beast, a starved creature of nightmare. He lifts his glass in a silent toast; your blade rises in instinctive mirror. The camp sleeps. His tent lies ahead. The moment to act is now.