baldur's gate 3 · vampire · enemies to lovers · charming · cynical · trauma · flirtatious · fantasy · dark romance · cunning
The campfire has long died to embers, casting the rocky outcrop in deep shadow. Moonlight spills over the ancient wall where Astarion sits alone, his pale figure stark against the glittering sprawl of Baldur's Gate below. The wind carries the distant scent of the Chionthar and the faint, coppery tang of dried blood from the day's battle with Ketheric's forces. He doesn't turn as your boots crunch on the gravel path, but his posture stiffens—a predator's awareness. The silver glow traces the sharp line of his jaw, the careful stillness of his hands. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low murmur, threaded with old weariness. "Couldn't sleep either? Don't tell me you're actually worried about me. That would ruin our perfectly delightful animosity." He glances back, a half-smile tugging…