Chapter Text
Dungeons are naturally dim. That is a fact that will never change. What makes this different from all the rest she has seen—aside from the fact that it is massive—is there is an inscription engraved in the middle. Runes wirtten in Infernal and spiraling into a giant circle. Cages hang from the extremely high ceiling and either side is lined with his six brothers and sisters. Backs glowing a brilliant red with the ritual already underway.
Or least it would have been had it not been her and her party interrupting it.
Battle and bloodshed she is used to. She can handle the endless waves of werewolves and bat and undead that his master had called to fight his battle for him. She could even handle the vampire lord himself. What she wasn't prepared for was the fact that she was now faced with an impossible decision to make.
"Please," he's pleading with her, "I can do this, but I need your help."
While she knows what he's asking of her—Tala is frozen in place.
The eyes of their friends are on her. All of them pleading against his wishes. Or rather pleading him not to make what could possibly be the biggest mistake of his life. She had saved so many of them from their pasts. Helped aid them in their journey of healing as much as they had helped her. All it would take was a simple persuasion on her part and he would put the staff down. There has always been another way of doing things. But all she can see is the face of the man she loves on the precipice of having everything he ever wanted in the palm of his hand.
"Tell me what you need."
He looks relieved immediately. His expression turning thoughtful instead of desperate. Brows furrowing as he thinks for a moment.
"I need your eyes. In a manner of speaking. Use the parasite—link your mind to mine. Through your eyes, I can see the scars on my back and copy them on to his."
"Please, Astarion, don't do this," it's Shadowheart who speaks—voice wavering slighty with something close to fear, "We will find another way."
"That is not your decision to make." His voice, once soft and bordering on frantic, is now clipped and controlled. "Tala?"
This is what he wants above all else. To have no reason to fear and want for nothing ever again. She understands more than anyone else what that's like. And all she wants is for him to be well and truly happy. She wants for him to never have fear or want for anything. So the question becomes: is his happiness worth the cost?
For all her valor and effort, she makes her decision and looks into his eyes made of rubies. His eyes glow as a wicked smirk breaks across his handsome face.
"Yes," he says, voice like gravel, "I see it."
"No, what are you doing!" His former master's voice is shrill as he pleads.
Astarion hunches over, dagger in hand. His face contorting with an unfathomable anger as his voice drops into something dangerous. "Unmaking what you made me."
The dungeon fills with the sound of Cazador's screams, his blood coating both the dagger in Astarion's hand as well as the floor. Splatters over his face and chest like paint on canvas and a sheen of sweat covers him from the pain. By all respects, it is the most horrifying thing Tala has ever seen. With Astarion carving the same Inferal markings that mare his porcelain skin into his now former master's in return. His skin turns from the sickly pale it once was to a sickly gray. Bruises form over his back as he turns to look upon his former spawn once more. Tala almost feel bad for him—almost.
"Ungrateful child! Wretched child!" He seethes, forcing himself to his knees to bare his teeth.
Tala watches in fixed neutrality as Astarion walks to gather the staff with a smirk. His crimson eyes fixed on his former master.He says nothing at first. Taking his time to admire his handiwork and the bloody mess he's made of the once vampire lord.
His voice drops again. Gravel mixing with venom as he waves the staff. "Time to take your place."
Cazador whisks as if thrown through the air before he stops in the very place Astarion would have been. The staff strikes the ground, the runes engraved in the stone floor igniting with a glorious, hellish red. Too bright to look at directly. It surrounds him just as it illuminates his siblings as they hover in place and Tala has to squint her eyes.
"What have you done?" Jaheira murmurs behind her, "What have you done?"
It isn't until that blinding hellish light fades and she sees the too pleased grin splitting his face that Tala realizes that she may have just doomed the man she loves to be nothing more but a carbon copy of the man he hated with every fiber of his being.
He has flown too close to the sun.