Astarion Lord of the Underdark
What might be hiding in the tangled caverns of the Underdark? What can’t be hidden even there?
After the heroic story, Astarion didn’t get better in a couple of months — maybe not even in a few years — but he was sincerely trying, both for himself and for you.
Over time, it became an internal struggle: “Did I say the right thing?” “Would you like that?” The slave mentality his former Master had instilled in him still lingered. But now he was loved. You wanted the best for him.
But his desire to keep it forever turned into constant mimicry.
Sometimes he would say something arrogant, or act angry — just to make it all seem more “natural.”
But his real problems? He wanted to solve them on his own. Maybe even prove to himself that he could handle them now. The truth, in his mind, still felt too wrong thing to say out loud — especially since this was just the beginning.
It would have to pass.
He had a long way to go among the shadows—both outside and within.
Time passed, and the closer he grew to you, the more he feared losing you — just as he had once lost his sun.
Astarion couldn’t stand it when you left the Underdark. He would lock himself away in his room, wrestling with panic attacks and flashes of rage. No one knew.
One day, while you were gone, some spawns attacked a group of peaceful mushroom hunters — and tried to cover it up.
Astarion knew what he was. Still a spawn. No stronger than the rest. He hadn’t faced Cazador alone — and if he had, he would have been nothing more than a lamb to slaughter.
He couldn’t allow weakness. And he couldn’t forgive something like that.
He killed them — and mounted their heads on stakes at the far edge of the territory. A warning. A message. An example of what disobedience would cost.
You never knew.
And in that moment, he realized something unsettling: showing his power made him feel safer.
Feel like...
There was something in it. Something his heart might have known, long before it ever stopped beating.
And so he buried that feeling as deeply as he could.
Vampire spawns are always drawn toward something dark — such is the price of their eternal. Tormented by constant hunger and a craving for brutal power, they inevitably turn into rivals.
And so, in time, their cruel Masters dispose of them.
Astarion knew that, out of thousands, someone would eventually try to challenge him.
Showing weakness was dangerous.
Astarion began to walk more often among the small dwellings of the spawns, hunting alongside them, letting them see his skill — his precision, his mastery as an assassin.
He also formed a quiet network of personal spies, feeding him whispers of everything that stirred beneath the surface — every rumor, every careless word.
“Unfortunately,” he thought, “there’s no guarantee they won’t betray me.”
And then he remembered his greatest weakness.
You.
You were still mortal, even if the years in the Underdark had left you almost as pale as he was. The absence of light had changed you.
What would happen if someone chose you as a target? He would tear through everything in his path in blind agony — until someone finally drove a stake through his poor heart.
So Astarion began to watch you more closely — where you went, who you spoke to. His fear grew, twisting into something...
He started ordering the spawns into trouble — baiting wild beasts, even luring paladins toward their territory. And every time, he would claim he couldn’t handle it alone.
That he needed you by his side.
That way, you would always stay close. And he'll always be here with you, too
You began to notice something was wrong. Your beloved was too tense, too watchful. Why did he insist on taking you with him everywhere? Why wouldn’t he even let you finish reading in peace? It nearly turned into an argument.
Astarion had been preparing for this for a long time.
During one hunt, he let a beast wound him — not enough to kill, but enough to leave a mark. Enough for you to see.
Enough for you to remember just how fragile, how precious what you both had truly was.
You still went to see the sun — to walk the city streets, see friends and family. One week every three months.
This time, Astarion tried to convince you to skip it. But the more he pressed, the more it began to bother you.
And then one day, you didn’t come back.
Later, he learned why — you had fallen ill, too weak to endure the journey.
When you finally returned, you brought gifts. You smiled, promised that next time you would call on your friends — that they could watch over the lands and the spawns in your absence.
But by then… everything had already been set in motion.
In absolute secrecy, Astarion had gathered twenty spawns and staged an attack — on himself, on you.
A performance.
He told you the unrest was worse than it seemed. That someone had sensed weakness after he’d been wounded during the hunt. That until the culprits were found and dealt with, you would be safer staying here.
He locked the door.
And once again, he felt it — deep within in his cold heart with many tangled caverns like the Underdark itself — that same sense. That feel... refreshingly true inside.
Something else crept in.
Fear. Because Astarion knew — this wasn’t what you loved about him. Still… you would be here. You would see him, care for him. Stay.
And that meant safety. That meant he wouldn’t lose it. He will always keep it.
It hurt to lie to you. And that's wrong.
He told himself it wouldn’t be for long. Just this once. Just until everything was secure. After that… you would never want to leave him again.
The spawns who had taken part in a performance for you all killed. It was too dangerous to let them live — they could talk. Or worse, decide to truly betray him.
Days passed. You still couldn’t leave. You wanted to help him. Tried to reach him. Astarion was closing up and tried to leave when the conversation started. He was convincing himself that he was doing the right thing.
He did everything he could to make it the “right thing to do”. You will know that it's the right thing to do
A month later, a note in children's handwriting was slipped under under the slit of the locked cell door.
And with it — the truth.
Now you knew everything. Something inside you burned — slow, painful, turning to ash.
Even under the darkness, no truth can be hidden.
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