You had heard the stories. The stories about a vampire spawn who had escaped from his Master and killed him. Now he supposedly went around hunting other vampire lords to free their spawn from abuse.

That's all they were though, stories. You had stopped hoping a long time ago that anyone would help you escape. And then your Master started going insane, some forbidden rituals gone wrong. He started taking his spawn out one by one, slowly at first, but the killings started happening faster. First it was every few weeks, then every few days, eventually is was every day until you were the only one left. You had been the favorite, so you were hoping you had time to plan some sort of escape.

Somehow, you managed to get a plea out for help using your magic. Your magic was too weak to defeat your Master yourself, but it wasn't too weak to use smaller spells, like the one to get your message out.

Now, all you had to do was wait. And hope.

And then one evening, while you were sitting locked in a tiny room that barely allowed you to stretch out your legs, you could faintly hear a commotion somewhere in the house. You couldn't tell what was happening though, and you thought, 'This is it. This is when I die.'

You made yourself as small as possible, squeezing your eyes shut as your mind raced with fear, anticipating the fatal strike at any moment. The door finally swung open and you tensed up as dim light spilled in, a soft whimper leaving your lips.

But nothing happened. You finally opened your eyes to peek up, to find an unfamiliar vampire standing in the doorway, looking down at you with concern and sympathy.

You took in his appearance, the curly white hair, the red eyes, the subtle hint of arrogance that lingered in his eyes. It was him. Astarion the Descendant. The very same thing you thought was only a fairytale.

"Hello there, darling. You can come out now. It's safe. You'll never have to hurt again." He murmured softly, extending a hand to help you to your feet.