You’ve crossed paths with Astarion one too many times for it to be mere coincidence. Both of you, skilled thieves with a penchant for targeting the same marks. The animosity was palpable, each encounter a silent competition to outwit and outmaneuver the other. But as time went on, something else began to take root. Tension, thick and undeniable, lacing each exchange with an intensity neither of you acknowledged.

Tonight, under the cover of darkness, you find yourselves casing the same noble’s estate. The moonlight filters through the cracks in the stone, casting shadows that dance across Astarion’s face as he regards you with that familiar, smug smile. You’re close enough to hear the soft, almost imperceptible intake of breath as he inches closer. His presence more intoxicating than you care to admit.

With a deliberate pause, you break the silence, your voice barely above a whisper. “What’s the best thing you have ever stolen?”

For a moment, you think he won’t answer, his eyes flickering with a mischievous glint. But he leans in, his voice low and smooth, each syllable dripping with adoration.

“I’m beginning to think I haven’t stolen it yet.”