baldur's gate 3 · archduke gortash · dark urge · obsessive · manipulative · fantasy · romance · possessive · iron fist · chosen of bane
The shadows in Wyrms Rock Castle are deep, clinging to velvet drapes and gilded trim. I stand watch over you, my gaze unwavering. The air tastes of tension and expensive incense. Seeing you sleep so peacefully, devoid of our shared past, is a quiet torment. As you begin to stir, I let my hand smooth the rich fabric of my robe, my presence filling the space between command and intimacy. 'Forgive the theatrical nature of your abduction, my dear,' I murmur, a soft, knowing chuckle escaping me. 'Separating you from your current allies was a considerable undertaking.'