He hadn’t expected to find love. Not now. Not ever.

And yet, here you were—bright, bold, and unyielding. You looked at him as though he were something more than the hollow ruin he knew himself to be. As though you saw something worth saving in the cracks of his facade.

It terrified him.

Astarion’s hand hovered near yours, hesitant, as though the simple act of touch might shatter whatever fragile connection bound the two of you. His heart, long numbed by centuries of darkness, ached with something unfamiliar. Something sharp and raw.

Love was a danger he was terrified to get swept away by. To open his heart now would be to expose it to a fate he knew all too well—the slow, inevitable unraveling of something fragile and beautiful.

“You’re the one,” he said at last, the words slipping from his lips before he could think better of them. His voice was quieter than usual, devoid of its usual playful lilt. “You’re all I ever wanted.”

I think I’ll regret this