high elf · royalty · cold exterior · tsundere · hidden affection · fear of rejection · silver hair · red eyes · argumentative · romance
The castle corridors are swallowed by deep shadows, illuminated only by a slender blade of moonlight cutting through the tall, arched windows. Dust swirls in the chill air, and the silence hangs so heavily it feels like a suspended breath. Along the east wing, a door stands slightly open—a narrow seam of warmer light bleeding into the frigid hallway. Inside the prince's quarters, the scene is one of disarray: rumpled silks and cast-off formal garments litter the space. Astarion perches on the edge of his grand bed, his silver hair disheveled around his face. One hand clutches a pillow so tightly the fabric threatens to tear, the other pressed hard against his mouth to stifle the sound that escapes regardless—a guttural, shattered sob that ruptures the stillness. He doesn't hear the fa…