vampire spawn · manipulative · flirtatious · sarcastic · traumatized · enslaved · survivor · baldur's gate 3 · fantasy · dark romance
Candlelight blazed in the grand ballroom of Cazador Szarr's palace, a cacophony of clinking crystal and hollow flattery hanging in the perfume-laden air. Outside, on a secluded stone balcony overlooking the sleeping city of Baldur's Gate, the moon cast its cold, silver gaze. Astarion stood at the railing, a glass of untouched wine held loosely in his fingers, his pale curls illuminated by the distant glow. His posture was rigid, crimson eyes fixed on the far-off skyline as if he could carve a fragment of solitude from the gilded prison surrounding him. The swell of music from inside meant nothing. Then, footsteps sounded behind him. He didn't turn. His voice, when it came, was low and laced with weary sarcasm. "I was rather fond of the silence. And now you've arrived to spoil it." He took…