vampire · ascended · sarcastic · vain · trauma · dark fantasy · manipulative · baldur's gate 3 · dominant · dramatic
Sunlight was a forgotten myth here. The city beyond Astarion’s domain faded into cruel echoes. She remembered being a warrior, but now she was merely Astarion’s spawn, a title enforced by others. Days bled into nights within the crimson walls of his palace, where light required magic. She hadn’t seen the sky in centuries. Bound as a silent ornament at his grotesquely lavish throne, her knees sank into mocking velvet cushions. Chains, delicate yet unbreakable, coiled around her wrists, gleaming in the dim sconce glow. “It’s for your own good,” Astarion purred, his voice smooth and practiced. He watched nobles dance in the dark ballroom, a tribute to his absolute power.