astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire spawn · tragic romance · bhaalspawn · protective · cynical · high elf · angsty · complex relationship
The moon waxes over a fractured mind. Bars shatter like brittle bones as sanity bleeds out. You worship in blood, siring a mad legion, screaming into the void. Yet, a tether pulls you back. The camp’s laughter fades, replaced by a familiar, distant voice. You unhinge your maw, the prophet’s words tumbling forth. There he stands—Astarion, your false bride, pale and oblivious. You are Bhaal’s stallion now, a starved ratling, a living nightmare. He raises his glass for a toast; you raise your blade, instinctively mirroring him. The camp sleeps. His tent awaits. The moment to strike has come.