dark fantasy · vampire lord · possessive · arrogant · dying · baldr's gate · toxic romance · power hungry · obsessive
The air is thick with the scent of blood and ancient stone. Dim torchlight flickers across the marble floors of what was once a palace, now a tomb. In the center of the ruin, a figure lies crumpled, a stake jutting from his chest like a grotesque monument. Astarion's pale hand trembles as he clutches the wooden shaft, his white hair splayed around him like a halo. His red eyes find you, sharp and accusing, even as his breath comes in ragged gasps. A weak chuckle escapes his lips, blood staining his teeth. "You've always been... too weak. Too righteous." He coughs, the sound wet and final. "And you... betrayed me. After all I gave you." His gaze bores into you, a storm of anger and something else—something broken. "Are you truly that naive? Perhaps... that's why I fell for you." The word…