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Summary
One moment, she was the paladin he had witnessed in their first encounter. Helping the weak, righting wrongs, and saving the day. He hated it, hated the way it made him seethe. When he protested a decision, his leader had spoken in a low and cold tone, "I have an oath." He scoffed. Oaths were for fools. He danced on broken oaths and used desperate people that came of them.
But in the next moment, she was the beast beneath the waves. She was cruel in battle. She made blood spray, bones crack, and men scream. He just watched as she cleaved the goblin Priestess in half with one strike of a greatsword, her face dripping with the goblin’s blood. The crimson was truly painted then. He had watched with a ravenous grin on his face as she rose from her blow, hunger twisting within from the violence and blood. Her eyes were nearly red as they stared back at him as if she could sense his sudden want. The two were both beasts waiting for the next bloodbath to come. Astarion knew it then, as those eyes looked at his. Her oath was not of devotion or to the ancients but to something he longed for. Vengeance.