Chapter Text
The descent into Cazador’s underground sanctuary would have stank of the clichéd narrative of the dramatic, the décor already dripping with condescension and pride had Gale not been thoroughly distracted by holding Astarion’s hand as tight as he could. Keeping the elf still was his current and only duty, lest the man lose his nerve and dash for the exit. He spoke the words of obsession and needing to make his Master pay, but the sheer terror of the situation was hard to mask when Gale’s fingers were being crushed in the vicelike grip.
The lift hit the bottom and the group hesitated once more, watching Astarion to make the first move. His eyes darted around like a trapped animal and his body coiled like a tight spring, breath non-existent behind a steely mask of focus and indifference that worked on not revealing the war raging within. Gale squeezed his hand back and the vampire turned to him as though he just remembered the man was there and blinked, before letting a small smile tweak the corner of his mouth.
“I’m fine.” He said, letting his hand relax enough that Gale could finally feel blood rushing back to his fingers.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this now? We can come back later, once Halsin and the others are fully recovered to assist.” Gale said and leaned into the elf. Shadowheart and Karlach had not moved and were silent during this exchange, though he could feel the cleric’s biting gaze in the back of his neck. He ignored it.
Astarion sighed and stepped off the platform. “If I don’t do this now, the bastard wins. The Black Mass was slated to begin tonight and I don’t know what will happen if, even without me, he manages to go through with it.”
“You can go back to the camp then, let us take care of this.” Gale was trying to give the elf an out, but the man was not taking it as he shook his head with vehemence.
“I have to do this. I have to watch him die. I have to know he is gone, or I spend the next years of eternity forever looking over my shoulder. Wondering when the day will come when he finally catches me for good.”
Gale nodded and took a deep breath. “Well then, into the fire we go. Know thyself, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories.”
Astarion quirked a brow. “Really? You’re quoting now?”
“Once more into the fray…”
“Into the last good fight I’ll ever know.” Astarion whispered as they walked down the yawning maw that somehow reminded Gale of a temple or crypt. It probably reminded the elf of exactly that, which had him squeeze the hand ever so tighter.
Seeing as though this was the home of an undead vampire lord, the comparison was apt.
The cages on the sides shook them all to their core, but none more than Astarion who had, somehow, gone paler and more uncertain by the revelation that his centuries of undertaking the will of Cazador had only trapped his victims in an eternity of torture, not released them from it once their lifeblood had been spilled.
Gale’s anger was rising at the effect this was inflicting upon the elf. The man worked on not transferring that rage through their tadpole bond, but Astarion glanced at him either way and shook his head with a frown.
“There’s no point in hiding it. He was and still is a monster. I can only hope I can end him with even a taste of how much pain he has chosen to inflict upon me. If this breaks his deal with Mephistopheles, I hope he burns for it.”
There was a general murmur of assent from the group as a whole as they descended into the pit and saw the ritual being performed, as though Cazador had been waiting for them this entire time. Perhaps he was. The sneering, cruel face turned to them and Astarion pulled away from Gale, stepping forward with a glare at his Master; the man who no longer held any real sway over his spawn.
Gale scowled as the vampire lord belittled and chastised his beloved as though he were a belligerent child. A naughty schoolboy needing the cane for disobeying the dean. He hated how Astarion couldn’t help but cower under the words, despite verbally spitting them back at Cazador with venom and spite. Despite the peril of the situation, pride blossomed in his chest at how far Astarion had come since they had first been made aware of his condition and who he was hiding from. Now they were fully facing the creature that dared to take away that spark, who considered himself worthy of even a moment of Astarion’s attention.
The disgust must have shown on his face too obviously because suddenly he found himself holding the attention of those red, uncaring eyes. Filled with hate and snide superiority.
“And this creature that you debase yourself with, you let him even touch you without my permission?” Cazador spoke of Gale as though he were just a specimen, looking him up and down dismissively.
“You want to talk to me, you leave my friends out of it.” Astarion growled, which did pull Cazador’s eyes back to him and left Gale feeling cold.
No doubt the tadpoles were helping resist certain vampiric abilities of mind control or persuasion, but the feeling still left slimy residue behind his eyes that felt almost tactile. And he couldn’t shake it.
“Friends? I’m not going to tell you what to call who you fornicate with, but at least be honest about your debauchery. He’ll make a good snack later, or a nice new spawn to replace you, though obviously not as sweet.” The vampire smiled darkly.
“You bastard!” Astarion screamed and leapt at Cazador, fingers curled into claws and his own weapons forgotten by his hip.
They all had no time to prepare or stop it as Astarion was suddenly held in a type of thrall, his body jerked sideways and then thrown into place in the ritual while Cazador himself turned to mist and vanished from their sight.
Gale yelled and started running, though regretted it instantly when he was suddenly besieged by werewolves and ghouls from all sides. He stared at them wide-eyed as an axe was aimed for his head, then a blur of red crossed his vision and Karlach knocked the skeleton aside.
“We got this, luvvy. Got get him!” She shouted, then grunted while pushing back another attack and opening up a path to Astarion. “Gale, now!”
He didn’t need to be told a third time as he took the chance and ran, holding his staff horizontally and focussing his power to slam magic into more creatures, fire erupting from his palms and leaving an inferno behind him. Like a wall properly separating himself from the carnage that Shadowheart and Karlach were unleashing upon every manner of beast and malformed spector Cazador had pulled from the depths.
All he could see was Astarion now hanging in mid air, agony on his face as he tried fighting against the compulsions and magic entwining his body. The red glow circling him seemed to delight in pulling and tearing at his skin, causing the elf to involuntarily cry out with every lash. In the back of his mind, Gale pondered the nature of the magic; whether it was living or just controlled. On the surface though, he held his staff up and focussed his full attention on releasing Astarion from the grips of what Cazador had subjected him to.
There was a tremor and the air warped around the elf as the magic seemed to fight against the forces yanking it into submission. It did not last long and the red light vanished and Astarion dropped heavily to the ground, groaning and disorientated. Gale slid to his knees, grabbing the bare shoulders and avoiding the angry redness of the elf’s back. The scars looked swollen and fresh, as though they had been carved that day and he shuddered at the sight.
“Astarion, get up. We’ll take him down now, together.” Gale got his arm under Astarion’s, grabbing him around the waist and trying to help hoist him to his feet. They managed to get to a wobbly standing position with the elf’s arm draped fully over Gale’s shoulder, using him as a crutch to lean on.
“Together,” Astarion wheezed and smiled lopsidedly at the wizard.
He could not even respond when a sudden wave of energy and power knocked them both clean off their feet and sent them tumbling to the edge of the platform. Gale grabbed at Astarion and they both scrabbled for purchase on the slick floor. It seemed to go on forever, the sliding and sheer loss of control over where their bodies were flung. Gale’s staff went flying out of his grip and he focussed on keeping a hold of the elf, while Astarion too tried his best to find anything to grab to cease their uncontrolled tumbling. The wizard wondered where in the hells the spell came from, but had no further time think. Then the edge was upon them and Astarion went over.
Gale managed to come to a precarious halt on his stomach and now was using all his strength to just hold onto the elf dangling over the abyss. It was a gut wrenching horror to see; the yawning depths below disappearing into darkness and threatening to envelop them. The height was unfathomable. There would be no coming back from that, no chance of recovery. Astarion’s feet were kicking into mid-air. There was nothing to push against and his entire weight was pulling at Gale’s arms as they held onto each other in desperate abandon.
Astarion and Gale locked eyes and the mage grunted from the agony of having his shoulders damned near wrenched from his sockets. “Don’t let go.” He gritted his teeth and Astarion couldn’t help but scoff, though his voice was shaking with abject terror.
“Does it look like I’m going to bloody let go?” He shifted his grip to try and pull himself up Gale’s arms, reaching for the ledge and near snarling in reckless abandon as he tried to swing his weight over.
“Gods, Astarion. Stop!” Gale cried out as his shoulders pulled and he felt his centre of gravity shift forward. The elf stilled his thrashing movements with wide eyes, and Gale’s tenuous hold on just staying on the platform was – for the moment – retained.
“Ok,” the mage huffed, sweat pouring from his brow. “Ok we just – wait for the other two to figure everything out. I –” he paused and grunted as Astarion started trying to climb up his arms again, albeit slower and more deliberately. “ – I am still holding the firewall up. The others will take care of the hoard, then Cazador. We’ll be fine. We’ll be okay.”
He spoke as though he was mainly trying to convince himself and Astarion they would survive this. Everything will come together. They wouldn’t fall into a never ending hole into nothingness, never knowing when they would hit the bottom – if at all.
“You little ingrates!” The snarl behind him chilled Gale to his core and he craned his neck back, eyes going wide at Cazador himself looming over them. The vampire, who had seemed so small and snivelly when they first saw him was now a threat larger than life. He was enraged and his face had twisted into something feral and depraved and the staff he held tight in his hand was now accompanied by a wicked looking dagger in the other.
“You try anything, and we’ll –”
“You’ll what, boy!?” Cazador hissed at Astarion, who – despite his horrific and precarious situation – was still fully defying the man who was had ruined and ruled his life for centuries too long. The vampire lord laughed a tinny, empty laugh. “You will do what you have always done in my presence. You will obey and you will suffer the consequences of your obstinance. But, since you are currently indisposed to allow me what is my true right, I shall instead take from you what you do not deserve.”
Gale couldn’t move lest he lose the precious grip on Astarion, who was now snarling at Cazador just out of reach. The mage dared not even shift his hold now, opting to only stare the vampire down as he came closer to stand over them, peering down his nose in disgust. Though – Gale felt a cold shiver rippled through him – there was a passive intrigue in those red eyes as they roamed over the mage’s prone body.
“As much as we’d kindly attend to your needs, would you bloody just go and die already? Karlach, Shadowheart!” Gale yelled, desperation rising in his chest. Where in the hells were the others? He had dropped the fire wall, but could not hear or see where they could be in the chaos beyond his awkward vision.
“Oh I am not going to die today.” Cazador abruptly dropped and planted his knee hard into Gale’s lower back, pinning him down. His knee was bony and sharp and the pressure carried a deceptive steel strength behind it. He then leaned down further and hissed into the mage’s ear. “I am going to ascend.”
Gale shouted in protest and alarm as Cazador brought the dagger up and sliced cleanly through the back of his robes. Not touching skin remarkably – he thought to himself – but that slight relief didn’t last as the cold touch of steel laid over his bare shoulderblade. Astarion screamed out, his near scarlet eyes flashing in rage and fear as he continued to find purchase on Gale’s arms. Though now his robes integrity were compromised, the sleeves were slipping down and both men were gripping onto eachother frantically. His hands were going numb and his breath came in short gasps and he whipped his head around to face his lover, horror in the elf’s gaze mirroring his own
“You can most assuredly – ”Gale hissed as Astarion’s sharp nails dug in to his biceps. The elf had finally managed to get a single hand on the ledge and was concentrating on getting the other in place so Gale could finally cast freely. He continued. “You can absolutely go straight to the hells, which is the complete opposite of…ah…AHHH! What are you DOING!!” Gale screamed and jerked his head back, craning to try and see the man pressing into his spine.
There was a continued, repeating stabbing pain driving into his upper back. It would stop for a few seconds, then pierce through and causing flaming agony across his skin in a different place. Gale jerked and tried to dislodge him, but then Cazador grabbed his hair at the scalp, sharpened nails raking across his skin as he pulled the man’s head back and rasped into his ear.
“I will take what I am owed. Just know the last thing you see will be your worthless hide becoming useful for once, instead of a place for my spawn to warm his cock.” He then slammed Gales head down, his forehead and nose cracking against the edge of the platform and further pain, hot and white flashed across his eyes as his vision swam with the shock of it. It took everything he had to keep a hold of Astarion as the hit compromised their attempts to get the elf up and safe.
Then the excruciating, dragging agony ripped through his back once more, though now he was momentarily too dazed by his broken nose and blood streaming down from a cut on his forehead to react with more than a deep moan. All his attention was focussing on trying to keep Astarion from falling into the depths, but it was getting harder the longer Cazador kept carving, cutting into him. Over and over again. He wasn’t able to pinpoint when or where the next point of the blade would pierce his skin, but he wasn’t being slow about it. Rather the motions were almost precise, efficient and short. No less excruciating as the blade tore through the thin skin directly over the bones in his spine and he let out a garbled scream, gripping onto Astarion’s arm like it was grounding him.
It seemed to trigger something in the elf, like a burst of energy allowing him to regain ground on the ledge with that one hand and swing the other one up. “Fuck you! Leave him alone!” He shouted. But just as he got a grip, Cazador slashed downwards, stabbing Astarion through the wrist. The elf cried out and lost his handhold again and Gale, in a horrified daze watched him drop almost in slow motion.
They stared at eachother as the elf slipped from his grasp and began to fall, the terror in his eyes though did not seem to be for himself. Gale felt the knee grinding him into the floor and Cazador’s blade began to carve anew and Astarion’s gaze was on him now with such sorrow. His face was throbbing, his back was on fire, but now he had his arms free and mere seconds to act. He moved his hands and yelled the incantation and Astarion jerked to a stop in mid air, the shock on his face making Gale nearly smile before his body shuddered and he nearly lost concentration as the carving continued. With a flick of his wrists he near threw Astarion tumbling through the air, then Cazador slammed his face into the floor again and the spell snapped as the world spun. The world twisting and making him feel like he was hanging from the ceiling, Gale didn’t know which way was up or down or where Astarion had landed. Had he managed to get the elf onto the platform at all?
His hands were free, he remembered he could now cast again. He blearily raised them again and jerked in surprise when they wouldn’t go any further. What was going on? His back burned once more, his face was just a mass of mangled flesh and bone with blood in his mouth and his hands were held immobile. There was a strange red light encircling them, exactly like the light that had grasped Astarion at the beginning and he pulled at them experimentally. They held fast. Cazador continued methodically stripping away his flesh inch by impossible inch and he cried out, voice now weak when pushing against the broken bones. He could feel them grinding with the movement, every breath causing flashes of hot pain around his cheeks and between the eyes.
“Your cries are not as sweet as Astarion’s. But you will do just as nicely.” He hissed out the words as one would if they were a snake, not pausing while keeping the wizard still as he finished a particularly cruel twist of the blade and Gale finally let his head drop. His tender cheek settled on the cool floor and he almost relished it, eyes rolling in his skull as yet another part of his back was flayed. He could feel the blood pouring down his sides, soaking into the robes and breeches.
“It’s a pity I will not be able to see his face when you play your part. I shall miss those delicious noises he would make. Ah well. Now, almost done. You will be a shining jewel in my ascension now the boy is gone.” He jabbed the blade deep and Gale felt nausea and bile rising, jerking in the pressure hold and magical chains the vampire had on him and the cold feeling returned.
Where was Astarion? There was no sign of the white hair and pale skin of the elf who had wheedled his way into his heart. Who had shared the stars with him and laughed over wine. Who he loved. He was completely pinned and stretched, immobilised under the weight of the vampire lord who was claiming the elf was gone while carving into him, confusing him with words that made no sense at all.
Gale gasped. “Whatever you have done to him, you will never ascend. That is a promise.” The blood under his cheek squelched with every word, but he forced them out anyway.
“Oh you poor pitiful little creature.” Cazador leaned down and brought his lips to the man’s ear, the nausea rising in him again at the sensation. “You threw him off the platform in your folly. Your weakness was his undoing, as it is now your own.”
And Gale’s eyes could only widen in further horror, his heart plummeting into his stomach as Cazador chuckled darkly into his neck before opening his mouth and viciously biting down. The scream ripped itself from his throat before being cut off as the fangs dug deeper and he lost the ability to breathe as the vampire began to drink heavily and deeply from his very soul.