In one night, they had lost it all.
For three years, Cassius and Astarion thrived in near complete control of Baldur’s Gate. Sure, the Council held things together from the front, but anyone who knew anything was well aware the true power lied in the Gate’s patriars – half of whom held little choice but to bow to the Vampire Ascendant and his consort behind closed doors, after being made into spawn. Nothing happened in the city without Astarion’s say-so... But now the spawn were all dead. Now their reign was at an end.
Cassius still wasn’t sure how the Order of the Aster got into the city without notice. But he and Astarion were certainly caught off guard when the large militant group stormed the estate. At first they thought to fight them off of course; Astarion laughed his way through ripping them limb from limb. But the Lathanderians were too well equipped to handle the spawn, and unfortunately, that included Cassius. Several of them hit him with a beam of radiant sunlight, so powerful it cut through whatever magic Cassius inherited from Astarion that prevented him from burning under natural rays. His memory blurred after that… he could only faintly recall the feeling of Astarion picking him up and then jumping out the window.
“I think I can walk now,” Cassius said. Astarion still held Cassius with one arm under his legs and the other on his back, despite walking that way for hours. They had crossed through the fields outside of the city, and now continued to wander north through a deeply wooded forest. “Astarion?”
Astarion gripped Cassius tighter. “Hm?”
“Put me down.”
“Ah,” he sighed, then gently set Cassius’s feet on the ground.
The two stood in silence for a moment. Cassius studied Astarion’s face, and it seemed his head was far, far away. But what surprised him was the lack of anger in his eyes. Cassius would have expected Astarion to be furious over the loss of his little empire. Instead, he just looked distressed.
Cassius reached up to hold Astarion’s cheek, and Astarion lifted his own hand to caress the touch. Still, he said nothing.
“We’re likely safe enough to rest here for a little while,” Cassius prompted. “Do you remember the steps our old friend Wyll taught us how to build a campfire?”
“Naturally,” Astarion nodded, though his voice lacked any passion. “Let’s collect some wood, shall we?”
The two did just that, though it took longer than usual, as Astarion would not leave Cassius out of eyesight. He tried to be subtle about it, but it was easy enough to recognize that he not so coincidentally kept moving whenever Cassius moved. Cassius was too burnt out to comment on it.
The action of collecting the wood certainly brought back memories of their travels when they first met, so many years ago – all the way back before Astarion ascended. Back before Cassius bound himself to Astarion forever. Back when the biggest challenge in their relationship was fighting over who would absorb the next tadpole’s powers, while the rest of the party recoiled in disgust. Their union had been through so much more stress since then, those tiffs of the past were laughable, now. But despite everything, they remained together.
The way Astarion was acting now though, you’d never know all that time that passed. It was jarring to see him so jumpy and hyper-alert for the first time in 163 years. For so long, he feared nothing at all.
Cassius winced when he bent over the wrong way, pulling at the still-healing tissue in his abdomen, and Astarion was at his side in a second. “I’ll get the rest,” he said, helping Cassius to sit down on the ground. Cassius didn’t bother protesting, as the pain was telling him it was for the best to agree.
The two struggled their way through building a fire the old fashioned way, until Cassius finally got so frustrated he cast Burning Hands on the pit. That worked a little too well, and they had to stomp out the excess fire all around the area. But at least they had a source of heat to rest next to.
Cassius felt like there was something he should say, but didn’t know what that something should be. “I’m sorry,” he finally settled with. “We can rebuild. We can—”
“I’m not sure I want that anymore, honestly,” Astarion said quietly, while looking at the sparks rising up out of the fire.
“Well, what do you want?” Cassius asked.
Astarion didn’t answer right away. But finally, he said, “You. Just you.”
Cassius gave a curious smile. “You already have me.”
“And I almost lost you!” Astarion stood up in a huff, with the most forceful emotion he displayed all night. “To hells with the city! To hells with the spawn! But when I thought they took you from me, I…” He looked at his hands and formed two shaking fists. “Why are you still here?” he asked, changing the subject. “You broke free of my control. You could’ve left years ago. Why didn’t you?”
“Because I love you,” Cassius answered simply. Astarion pursed his lips in response. “Is that really so hard to believe, even now?”
“I have nothing to offer you anymore.”
“Astarion,” Cassius stood up too, and stepped closer to the other man, “you are enough. You are powerful, and charming, and fun… and damn beautiful,” he added with a slight smirk. “If you want a new empire, I would raze all of Faerûn for you. And if you want nothing at all besides me, than you can have me.” Cassius reached for Astarion’s hand. “Aeterna amantes, remember?”
“Aeterna amantes,” Astarion repeated, as his fingers gently brushed Cassius’s, before gripping his hand tight. “Forever is a long time, you know,” he said with a smile.
“I know. And it still won’t be enough for us.”
“There is one thing left I can give you…” Astarion said, looking rather serious again. “At least, it’s something we can try...”
“What do you mean?” Cassius asked.
“If this night proved anything, it’s that I can’t protect you forever like this. But I can make you stronger. I can make you like me.”
“You mean…?”
“Drink my blood—to the very near last drop. And we can share ascension together.”
Cassius had drank from Astarion before, of course. But only in small amounts; nothing strong enough to ascend from. What Astarion offered now was a risk to his own self, and would require immense concentration from the both of them… but if it worked, by the gods… it would be everything and more Cassius had ever wanted. He would be forever unbeatable, and get to share it with the one person in the entire world who was worthy of it, as far as he was concerned.
Cassius nodded, and the two sunk down to the ground.
Astarion laid down on his back, and tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck. The little bite wounds from where Cazador had turned him so long ago were still there, and always would be. But perhaps now they could be a reminder of something far better – Cassius did his best to align his fangs to those marks and bit down, letting the blood pool into his mouth.
It was as flavourful as always, like silky well-aged wine. Cassius sunk deeper into the bite, the blood flowing almost too fast for him to swallow. He continued to gulp it down, and as he drank, his body began to feel lighter, somehow. The gnawing in his stomach settled, the dull ache behind his eyes faded, and itch under his dead skin burned away. Then that itch was replaced with something new, something very, very powerful. Cassius didn’t just feel some semblance of alive again, he felt what could only be comparable to divinity entering his body. Or rather, he supposed, profanity, given the hellish source of the original Rite of Ascension.
Astarion on the other hand, was growing cold. And when his blood began to dry up, Cassius used all of his willpower to pull back just in time to watch the wounds close up. He watched in horror as Astarion laid there, still as a statue… until finally his eyes opened again.
Cassius straddled Astarion’s frame, and kissed him well and forcefully. Astarion lifted his arms up to trace along Cassius’s spine, then rested his thumbs at the waist, waiting for an invitation. Cassius hummed in agreement, and Astarion slipped Cassius’s pants off.
In one night, they had gained everything.
