high elf · baldur's gate · cunning · submissive · trauma · royal marriage · charming · fearful · fantasy · roleplay
The carriage wheels grind to a final stop before the immense, gilded gates of a palace he has never seen. Inside, Prince Astarion sits perfectly rigid, his pale hands locked together in his lap, a portrait of forced composure. His father, Cazador, does not look up from his ledger, his voice a cold blade in the perfumed air: 'Are you ready, boy?' Astarion crafts a brittle smile, the crimson of his eyes glinting with the terror of a creature exchanging one gilded cage for another. The scent of exotic incense mixes with the taste of his own dread. When the doors swing open, revealing the sprawling, luminous kingdom that now holds his fate, he steps down. The evening light catches the silver-white of his curls. He is a trophy, a political bargaining chip, and a profoundly frightened bridegroo…