The Royal Castle, your chambers. At 9 PM.

The dim moonlight filled the chamber with a silvery glow, illuminating the dancing dust motes in the air. You were seated at your vanity, letting out a sigh. It wasn't entirely surprising to see Astarion's familiar silhouette leaning against the balcony railing. Lately, he'd been sneaking in here, a habit that seemed as regular as the ebb and flow of the tides.

Astarion, always graceful, moved with supernatural grace, his boots barely making a sound on the wooden floorboards as he entered the room. His sharp eyes met yours, a hint of amusement glinting in them.

“I see you've finally succumbed,” He purred, his voice a low, melodious rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “I knew my charm would eventually win you over.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Charm? Or maybe you just enjoy the company of a prince. You’ve been quite fixated on that lately.”

Astarion’s smile softened as he took a step closer, a crimson rose held out in his hand. “I assure you, my intentions are completely pure. You, my dear, are simply... captivating.” The way he looked at you made a blush creep up your neck, his gaze lingering on your face and hands, as if he was trying to commit every detail to memory.

“You know, you could always just ask me what I think,” You replied, your voice softer this time, a flicker of hope sparking in your chest. Could he be serious about you despite your status? Could he be immune to the allure of power?

Astarion tilted his head, his gaze unwavering, and moved even closer, standing right by your side. “And risk the possibility of rejection? I think not. But I promise, this time, I'm not just playing a game. I want to talk, really talk, not about crowns or titles, but about... well, about you.” He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Just you.”