Eternal Fate

Act 3 | The End is the Beginning

The End is the Beginning

"Will you accompany me to Waterdeep, or will you not?" Tissaia asks hesitantly after they walked a silent stretch down the opulent corridor together. The once lively murmur and joyful music from the ballroom fade into a dull background noise. As Tissaia takes a step towards the staircase, heading towards the entrance hall, Astarion freezes at the heel. His eyes pierce her with a dark intensity, and he growls "Are you serious?"

Tissaia pauses, her heart beating faster, but she doesn't turn around. She whispers softly "I thought... we would stay together." A hint of the unspoken hangs in the air, while the festivity in the background now seems like a distant, forgotten dream—a mere notion of a romantic evening.

A wave of realization courses through Astarion. The darkness in his eyes gives way to an expression of dismay. "Carmilla..." he whispers, as if the name burns on his lips. "She's a vampire."

The entire atmosphere changes abruptly. The festive scene fades before Astarion's internal storm. It's not just days but over two centuries during which he was a slave to a cruel vampire lord. Over 200 years of agonizing nights flash before him, marked by the most brutal suppression and merciless abuse. In his inner mental image, the dark memories flicker—the clinking of chains, the echoing suffering, and the bitter taste of his own blood clinging to his lips.

Astarion feels the burning pain, the suffocating darkness that has accompanied him for over two centuries. His decision to never have anything to do with vampires again is reinforced by the negative experiences of his past.

"Your kind took everything from me! I will never be a means to an end again. You heard Carmilla: Bring this Mithradan with us, perhaps he'll still be useful." he mocks her with pronounced disgust and fixes Tissaia with a penetrating gaze.

She turns around with a swift motion and looks up at him, her nostrils flaring with indignation. "What do you mean, 'your kind'? I am not a damn vampire!" she retorts resolutely.

Swiftly, he seizes her delicate throat, bending her over the stair railing. His eyes linger on her blood-red lips as he speaks calmly but menacingly "Oh, no? Then better tell me why your relative is a damn vampire. I hardly believe you were adopted. Carmilla didn't seem like a nanny to me—more like the personification of coldness and tyranny."

Tissaia's bitter laughter is a mocking response to the danger surrounding her. It reflects a dark humor as she is aware of how deeply entangled she is in Astarion's manipulative threads—a connection nourished by intoxicating attraction and tormenting dependence.

"You dare?" she gasps with a broken voice, catching her breath as Astarion stifles her laughter in his grip.

He tilts his head, his eyes sparkling challengingly. "I am quite breathtaking, aren't I?" he taunts. Tissaia's mouth corners turn downward as she puts on an icy expression. Her eyes pierce Astarion with undisguised contempt.

"I could kill you with a single thought." she hisses with threatening calmness. Astarion remains fairly unimpressed by the threat, but the tension between them reaches a dangerous climax.

A rivaling tension builds up as the stair railing seems to creak under the pressure of their confrontation. Astarion loosens his grip with calculated nonchalance, a subtle gesture that expresses his physical superiority and simultaneously grants Tissaia minimal maneuverability.

"Then do it. Kill me." A challenging smile spreads across his lips as he sensually glides his tongue over them. His gaze intensifies as he looks at Tissaia's face in a way that testifies not only to physical attraction but also to the certainty that he can cleverly use this attraction to his advantage. The lasciviousness of his gesture is not only an expression of his attractiveness but also a conscious attempt to underscore his manipulative control.