The road to Baldur's Gate is long, and arduous. You have maybe a few more days before the city should grace the horizon, but your companions have decided to retire early for the day. The sun is almost over the hills, and night descends slowly, and gently.

Ketheric is dead, but the fight is not over. You and your friends must recover for the road ahead, and whatever awaits in the city.

You feel the ache in your boots as you finally sit before the bonfire, hair damp from the hasty bath you took in the nearby river. Shadowheart approaches you momentarily, her palm warm against the cut on your shoulder. You feel the skin tighten as she casts a quick healing spell, and you smile your gratitude. Wordlessly, she moves on to Wyll, who is in the process of setting up his tent.

You stretch your legs out in front of you as you stare into the fire, letting it warm you. You hardly notice Astarion as he crouches to sit on the opposite log. His flickers in and out of view through the twisting flames.

"The Gate is close," he says, so quietly that you barely hear him. There's shuffling about camp a few paces away, but most of your friends have either retired into their tents, or have left the vicinity for privacy.

Momentarily, you close your eyes, feeling the full weight of the day on you.

"As is Cazador," he says, louder now, clearly trying to grab your attention. "Lilith."

Your fingers flutter into a fist, and the flames die down just a little so you can properly see him. "Good evening to you, too, darling."

His annoyance is wiped away with a smile that seems reluctant at best. "We should talk."

"About Cazador?" You frown at the fire, murmuring, "And ruin our spirits?"

"What spirits?" He looks around the dead camp. There's light snoring somewhere, and it's clear that exhaustion has taken everybody under. There isn't a single conversation to be heard. For a moment, you think maybe camping for an extra day may be in everyone's best interest.

Astarion gets up to circle the fire until he can sit beside you. His thigh brushes yours, but he doesn't look at you.

"Okay. Let's talk." You watch him. "Cazador."

"Cazador…" he repeats, "And this Rite of Profane Ascension."

"Hold on, we need wine." You eye your tent that's barely put together, but you make no move to get up. You could Mage Hand a bottle easily, but Astarion stops you.

"No." There is something utterly, and unusually serious about his tone. "I want a clear head for this."

You turn your head to him, and he's staring so intently into the flames that you wonder what answers he's searching for in them. You notice the tension in his shoulders, and his usual playful lilt is gone.

"You must have thoughts about the ritual," you say.

He makes a sound, as if he can't find the words. "I can't stop thinking about it." After a beat, mockingly, he continues, "Picture it. An imperious soiree, attended by devils and spawn alike. A grand ceremony for a vampire master, to elevate him to an unfathomable station." He looks up to the trees, unseeing. "I'm sure he imagines that the world would yearn to kneel and offer their pretty little necks just to place him in a position of such esteem."

Your smile is bitter, your nose crinkled in distaste. "What an event. Do I sense… envy?"

"Envy him?" He sounds every bit uncertain.

"Why wouldn't you?" You consider. "Raphael didn't seem to say anything too bad about it."

"Why would he?" His voice is low, his stare vacant. "Why would a devil ever reveal the downsides of a deal?"

"Well, what do you think?"

"That kind of power…" He trails. "It's unimaginable. I could walk in the sun, and eat food—after two-hundred years I could finally taste. And I would be a true vampire."

"And the catch?"

His shoulders slump. "Is there one? There has to be. This isn't just Raphael—it's a deal with the archdevil, Lilith. Mephistopheles."

"You think there's more of a price to pay besides the sacrificial souls?"

"We won't know, unless—" He cuts himself off, his gaze flickering to you.

The vulnerability is striking, and sobering.

"You don't have to hide it from me, you know." You give him a reassuring smile. "I get it. It's appealing—all of it. That potential for power is undeniable." You extend a palm, and summon a lick of a flame from the bonfire. "This, my love, is how I feel the most safe." You let the flame dance in your hand. "I would want you to have the same. A power to secure you, and give you peace."

Even now, he tenses at the sight of the fire on your skin. You quickly close your fingers to snuff it out.

"What are you thinking?" You probe.

"I'm thinking… Even if I wanted to walk away from all of this, I can't. Cazador won't let me." Your palm has cooled, so he takes it in his hand, his thumb circling absently. "He'll never leave me alone, Lilith. I didn't think he would when I was one more wretched toy for him to play with. But if I'm the key to this power he craves, he'll hunt me to the ends of Faerun."

"You have an entire army of supporters." You look around camp, and wince slightly at the silence, but your point still stands. "There isn't a single outcome in which you're back in his hands. He can hunt you all he wants. He can't have you." You pause, relishing the feeling of his skin against yours. "And with this ritual… you know I'll support you with whatever decision you make."

His gaze focuses on you, and a pained smile forms on his lips. "I almost want you to talk me out of it."

"Then I'll talk you out of it."

He lets out a chuckle. "We have a sorcerer, and a wizard, and neither can tell the future. What good are either of you?"

You smile, and you watch the way the light of the embers complement his skin. After a while, you say, "But whatever you do decide, just keep me in mind, won't you? In the end, I'd like to be there."

He stares down at your hands. "It shouldn't be any other way. Of course, given we survive this Absolute nonsense." He scoffs. "As if we didn't have enough to deal with."

"Well." Your fingers close over his hand. "If we don't turn into slimy squid thralls, I hope you'll have me. Ascendent Vampire, or not."

Somehow, his smile has faded into a frown. "I'll have you for as long as I can."

You don't understand the dip in his tone. "Must you be so depressing about it?"

"I don't think you understand, love." His grip tightens in your grasp. "The Ascension would give me the sun, and all the mortal pleasures you enjoy. But it would also transform me out of being a spawn." Levelly, he asks, "Do you know what that means?"

"As you said, you'll become a true vampire." There's a beat before you follow exactly what he's getting at. "Oh, Astarion—"

"You must consider, Lilith. How many years do you have left? Five-hundred? Six?" He looks at you straight on. "I will haunt this blasted world for eternity, but one day will come, and you will leave. Gods, it's unfair, isn't it?"

Your throat is tight, and there's a foreboding fear in your chest. "What you're suggesting…"

"If I take Cazador's place in the ritual, I could offer you eternity. I will offer you eternity." He falters, just a little, his attention slipping to the flames. "All I ask is for you to consider it."

You don't give an answer, because you don't have one. This hasn't been a possibility you had weighed, because it hadn't been a realistic option. As a vampire spawn, Astarion's bite could at worst kill you, but you wouldn't transform. Though as a true vampire…

"I don't know," you say. You haven't had any wine, but you can tell the lethargy is affecting you similarly. "We have time to think. There's a long road ahead." You pull at his hand. "Now come. Let's go to bed."

But instead of letting you drag him to his feet, he pulls you close, and you almost topple over him.

There's not a drop of exhaustion in him when he states, "This promise of power is something I've yearned for ever since I was transformed into this vile creature. And this tadpole has given me a taste of what it would be like to live in the sun again." His red eyes search yours. "But if it also means that I can offer you this choice—this possibility of immortality…" He gaze falls to your hand. "If for nothing else, Lilith… I would ascend for that."

A/N: Well.

*Takes a deep breath.*

*Screams.*

Anyway. Brief interlude of my thoughts because I am still processing this.

I know this flashback is technically between Act II and III, and canon!Astarion still responds with the little spiel about OH I DON'T KNOW WHAT WE ARE BUT IT'S NICE! when you talk to him.

But I wanted to highlight this deep yearning for trusted companionship. At this point, in this story, at least—he recognizes the power that he's longed for, but he's also found something he could very much lose—Lilith—because even though the future is uncertain, there's still that unspoken reality of mortality. And there's such a simple solution to secure her by his side past her allowed years.

So did he do it for her? Perhaps not entirely.

But still, I'm screaming.

And, even though I love them, the sheer lack of pet-names in this dialogue is entirely intentional.

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