Chapter Text
Part 1: Descent
“Help me do this. Please.”
If the desperation in his eyes and the heartbreak on his face hadn’t already been enough to break you, the tremble in his voice would have done it. And even without all that, how could you ever say no to this man? He who stood beside you as you discovered your lost self. He who remained beside you when you learned your cursed history. He who bound the knots of your restraints and stroked your hair through the night, even as you writhed and fought to end his life. He helped you gain your freedom from the damnation of your birth. How could you possibly deny helping him with his own same freedom?
But, says a voice in your head, seven thousand souls.
“It will kill so many people,” you say, the words numbing your mouth like poison.
“People? Those ‘people’ died years ago, trust me on that. All that’s left are feral spawn, desperate for blood. Think how many people they’d kill. Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? But if we complete the ritual, think of the power I’ll have. With me by your side, we can save the city - we can save ourselves. And I’ll be able to walk in the sun. I’ll be really, truly free. Isn’t that what you want?”
Of course it is what you want. It’s all you want. Freedom to be together, to escape your haunted pasts, to forge a new and brighter future.
“Please,” he whispers, “I can’t do this alone.”
The words cut you like a knife to your heart. Your eyes meet, and you willingly open your mind to him. Your thoughts join as you become one. You feel the knife in his hand as if it were in yours, and you taste the tang of power and blood that fills his mouth. It is intoxicating, almost all-consuming, and if you focus your mind on it hard enough, you find you can almost drown out Cazador’s screams. Giving Astarion control of your eyes puts you in a dreamy, trance-like state; an escape from the cold, echoing horror of the Szarr dungeon in which you stand.
You do not know how much time has passed when Astarion severs your connection and you are dragged back to the nightmarish present. The corpses of Cazador’s servants surround you once more, and death hangs thick in the air. Cazador’s screams have diminished to exhausted whimpers, and you regain your vision fully just in time to see Astarion brandish the vampire lord’s staff, sending his old master flying to take his spot for the ritual.
You watch as your love brings the staff down with a crash in front of him. His voice is harsher than you’ve ever heard it as he begins to chant.
“No, Astarion, stop this!” Shadowheart’s voice sounds quiet and weak beside his.
“Don’t you dare! I can feel their power flowing into me!” His voice is a roar now, and his very words seem to carry a magic within them. Any thoughts of stopping him slip away into the void.
You’re not sure you had any thoughts of stopping him anyway.
His chanting continues, and a magic unlike any you’ve ever felt permeates the air around you. You feel your companions stirring in terror beside you, but you cannot take your eyes off Astarion. He stands at the centre of a circle of glowing runes that are far beyond your understanding, his perfect body incandescent with infernal power, his beautiful eyes nothing more than white-hot spots of brilliance. You hear a sickening series of cracks and bursts around you, and you are glad that your lover is the sole focus of your fascination. The fact that you do not even have the stomach to watch the destruction you have helped unleash around you makes you flush with shame, but you shove the feeling down. You did this for him. For him, you would do anything.