The first one was dedicated to Larian Studios, Paris Paloma, and everyone, who ever loved Astarion.
This one is dedicated to every single Astarion out there. Regardless of gender, nationality, religion, skin color, details, or anything else, if you found an Astarion in yourself you identify with, you must know:
You are not just worthy of love, you are loved. Never doubt that.
MAD LOVE 2: SAVE FILE
Prologue
Baldur's Gate, 85 872 h 45 min
F8
10 years had passed. Astarion didn't always sleep in the mausoleum, and he did manage to sleep with a few people. He waited. He kept coming back. Everyone, but Livia and Halsin, insisted he was interrupting her "rest". He wanted to murder someone, when he heard that logic. After yet another night, where the body that didn't rot, didn't make a slightest move, she could hear him, something inside him… broke.
He realized this has been a corpse this entire time.
He got up.
Time to see the Bone Man.
"She's dead, isn't she." Said Astarion to Withers.
"Yes."
"She isn't there, she isn't here. Her soul left. Wherever it left to, it died there, perished. Extinguished. What's left here is an impossible shell, that refuses to rot."
"Yes."
"And her spirit, her soul, whatever… left. And since I am of these realms, and she, of another, even if I kill myself, she won't be there in my afterlife, will she."
"Correct."
"And you knew and you didn't tell me on purpose."
"I was not that malicious. When I saw thee's response I honestly thought there might be a possibility she might be… reached across dimensions. Stranger things happened than two souls in love breaking death's door."
"But time was passing and you realized it won't happen."
"Yes, I was forced to accept… It would never come to be."
"Why didn't you tell me."
Withers regarded him curiously. "Now that thou knows… what difference does it make?"
Astarion looked at him. And that's when Withers realized… The red was gone. The iris wasn't red it was… black. "All the difference in the world, Bone Man." He came closer and stabbed him.
"What… did…"
"It's not a normal magical blade. A normal blade wouldn't kill you. Oh no."
"What have thee done…"
"Oh, I know you won't be there to resurrect new heroes. Oh noooooo, so sad. People won't get rescued." He bent over the dying seneschal. "You know who else didn't get rescued? Her. So die. Die like you deserve and she didn't. And know: this is mercy."
He watched the corpse with some amount of pleasure, as it became more of a corpse. The body fell and Astarion toed it with his boot, checking for movement. Nothing. Good.
As Withers perished, the pleasure lasted a second maybe, and then despair came again. Of course he could die. Of course he could just give up, and walk into sunlight. Problem was another: they wouldn't be reunited. She died there. She belonged in her afterlife, he in his. His death wouldn't see them reunited. He would never hold her again. She died… knowing she was unloved.
He let her down… he failed her. He lied to her. He told her he would save her… and she died, waiting.
Astarion felt true wrath.
No.
You didn't save her… But maybe… You can save…
Yourself, he thought.
Thoughts churned in a weird direction. He focused. What he would need… Hmmm. Withers dead, but Withers wasn't the only one in Toril with these powers, was he. At this point, it didn't matter who he owed, did it. And he would need only a moment, an unstable Prism-like environment that would hold for literally an hour, right? If he managed to get to himself? It might take years. But… did it matter? No.
So. Time for a reckoning.
Time to face the man from the mirror.
Chapter 1- Labour
Why are you hanging on so tight
To the rope that I'm hanging from?
Off this island, this was an escape plan
(this was an escape plan)
Carefully timed it, so let me go
And dive into the waves below
Who tends the orchards? Who fixes up the gables?
Emotional torture from the head of your high table
Who fetches the water from the rocky mountain spring?
And walk back down again to feel your words and their sharp sting
And I'm getting fucking tired
The capillaries in my eyes are bursting
If our love died, would that be the worst thing?
For somebody I thought was my saviour
You sure make me do a whole lot of labour
The calloused skin on my hands is cracking
If our love ended, would that be a bad thing?
And the silence haunts our bed chamber
You make me do too much labour
You make me do too much labour
Apologies from my tongue, and never yours
Busy lapping from flowing cup and stabbing with your fork
I know you're a smart man (I know you're a smart man), and weaponise
The false incompetence, it's dominance under a guise
If we had a daughter, I'd watch and could not save her
The emotional torture, from the head of your high table
She'd do what you taught her, she'd meet the same cruel fate
So now I've gotta run, so I can undo this mistake
At least I've gotta try
The capillaries in my eyes are bursting
If our love died, would that be the worst thing?
For somebody I thought was my saviour
You sure make me do a whole lot of labour
The calloused skin on my hands is cracking
If our love ends, would that be a bad thing?
And the silence haunts our bed chamber
You make me do too much labour
All day, every day, therapist, mother, maid
Nymph then a virgin, nurse then a servant
Just an appendage, live to attend him
So that he never lifts a finger
247, baby machine
So he can live out his picket fence dreams
It's not an act of love if you make her
You make me do too much labour
All day, every day, therapist, mother, maid
Nymph then virgin, nurse and a servant
Just an appendage, live to attend him
So that he never lifts a finger
247, baby machine
So he can live out his picket fence dreams
It's not an act of love if you make her
You make me do too much labour
The capillaries in my eyes (all day, every day)
Are bursting (therapist, mother, maid)
If our love died (nymph then virgin)
Would that be the worst thing? (Nurse then a servant)
For somebody (just an appendage)
I thought was my saviour (live to attend him)
You sure make me do (so that)
A whole lot of labour (he never lifts a finger)
The calloused skin on my hands (247)
Is cracking (baby machine)
If our love ends (so he can live out)
Would that be a bad thing? (His picket fence dreams)
And the silence (it's not an act of love)
Haunts our bed chamber (if you make her)
You make me do too much labour
Paris Paloma - "Labour", album: Cacophony, released 2024
Baldur's Gate, Cazador Szarr's palace, 214h 41 min load save file
Everything that could be wrong, was wrong.
Astarion was about to Ascend. He saw in her mind the snippets of different strands, lines, things she knew… And this only strengthened his resolve: he had to be able to offer more to her, so he would offer her the Ascendant himself. But not become an evil, paranoid, power scheming maniac. Sure he wouldn't. Because, of course, he would be the one, who isn't corrupted by power. Weirdly enough, it wasn't the power of the Ascendant that twisted him, but the perception of it he had. The humility it removed from him. Spawn Astarion had humility: he saw people could choose to not be with him, hell, he thought he had little to offer to anyone, and that fucking was his only true talent. All that humility disappeared the moment he Ascended, because he falsely believed in the power of the ritual. What ritual really offered in her opinion: sunshine.
And nothing else. Hunger? He wouldn't feel gnawing of starvation in his stomach, but he would still long to drink for pleasure, so no change in amount of drinking blood overall.
And after experience of slavery, not owning his own body… This ascended Astarion would not be able to stand he is governed by love, while he yearned for it more than for power and blood - that made him a slave to the one he loved. situation, the impossibility of it… Triggered his insanity, his rage. Safety lost again.
His insanity, his rage, made him unable to accept that love always made you vulnerable, even if it didn't make you a slave. And love that was strong… made you a fucking willing slave, adding insult to injury. Oh, how well she understood him and his desire to not be on his knees… After all, she resisted him also because of sheer intensity of emotions he awoke in her, when they met… But he went about it the worst way possible.
She also understood, so deeply as if she was born a man, a desire to provide, protect, and becoming able to shield someone.
But not at that cost.
So she had to do, what she was afraid would have to be done: she had to lie to him. Again.
As she looked at Cazador covered in bruises, on his knees… the six still floating in the air… She wanted to weep. And then… She fucking started to weep, but just a little, wasn't one of those that made her incapable of speech, thank God.
"Astarion, please… don't do this. But not for me." - Her voice was rough and cracking, low and pleading. "We… are done, no matter what decision you make, hear me? If you decide to not Ascend, it will never be. If you decide to Ascend, it will never be."
Cazador laughed quietly.
"See, boy? You're nothing to her…"
Astarion looked at her… To see her response, insecure, once again humiliated by Cazador. But her response… shocked him.
Never saw her like that. One moment she was weeping, the next: she was unhinged. He never saw anything like this. She was vibrating… she wants to rip him to shreds with bare hands, he realized. Gods. And he thought Livia was the one, who was murder.
She looked at the vampire and vibrated with true rage… no. She was vibrating from holding herself back, with all her strength, he realized.
Took a single step towards the kneeling vampire.
"One more word out of your mouth and I will rip that tongue out."
Both spawn and master realized: she isn't threatening.
"I am just waiting for an excuse, to be honest. Give it to me. Please…" she hissed out. "It will make a nice Valentine for your son…"
Valentine?
She was looking at him with such insanity in her brown eyes they almost seemed to be tinged with red… Her body poised for an attack…. Suddenly she felt a gentle nudge: not an intrusion, but a polite request. Cazador.
She opened.
Cazador mind linked with her, she had a tadpole, he was a master vampire.
Surely… ugh, his mind voice grated same as his normal one… You wouldn't take from the boy the pleasure of killing me… Or you could…
While groveling on the outside, head bowed in front of his son in pretended supplication, in their link he was looking at her full of pride and mockery, full of contempt for Astarion.
Control him… Handle him. Return him to the spot… I shall Ascend and make you my consort, or my right hand…. He offered. I will show you a true vampire… Not this pathetic, weak boy. I will give thee what this heart must need: an equal. Cazador whispered, so sensuous.
She couldn't hold it in; in their mind link, she rolled her eyes at him, loud.
Here's what you don't get, master vampire: I love him. He is mine, hear me? Not yours, not the Absolute's - mine. That thing I just said he will never have me? It's a fucking lie. I belong to him sure as shit, he just doesn't know it. I will always love him, through time and dimensions, and that makes him mine more, than he ever was yours. So yes, believe you me - I am barely controlling myself not to do things to you… I would not kill you, I would keep you alive….
She showed him the Spanish tie. Angel or so called Eagle. Cutting off limbs and making him only a torso. Then: rape and degradation.
Better yet: let him keep his limbs, keep him naked in a collar, eating diseased vermin for an audience of Baldur's Gate dignitaries, his children and the 7000 spawn- or not eating at all.
Your choice, boo.
The last one worked.
You wouldn't dare! He hissed at her.
Test me please! She was full of pleading, suddenly. Test me…
Her eyes are insane. Insane… Cazador thought.
Then kill me… the boy will forever hate you…
You just don't get it, do you? She thought at him.
Yes, you can goad me into killing you again, you absolutely can. But here's the deal: I love him. Not want to own him, like you. If he was my slave, I would give him the papers of ownership to himself. My love for him is the same: I want him to belong to himself and no one else, not even me, not eve f, you sack of shit. I also think I am not good enough for him, destroyed as I am by my experiences, and barely able to feel. Initially when I met "your son" I lost my fucking mind, but the insanity subsided after a few weeks. Not because he isn't wonderful, but because I am like the undead.
He is but a boy, and a creature like you… only a man would hold your interest…
Cazador showed her, how she impressed him. He could see the mental structures, could see the mind. Weirdly enough, she perceived actual, tiny sliver of fascination from the master vampire. But it was really tiny. For her… Looking at Cazador's entire structure, was like being slapped in the face by your own twisted reflection. He was undead, he knew no rest. He had memories of the boy he used to be, the man he grew into, and the monster he eventually became. He slept, but couldn't rest. He was animated, but not alive. He grieved, eternally.
Once again, she was reminded not from within, but from outside, from actual reality, what the fight was always truly about, and why giving in was the wrong move… And why the decisions she had to make, before she ever met Astarion, stopped her from ever being able to have anything with him.
All because she refused to be the fem equivalent of this fucker, and gods, she would've put him to shame on day one. Had it been her, she would've had Astarion himself acting like those wretches who were cleaning the palace, worshipping Cazador, completely brainwashed, completely past any rescue. It would've been for her a point of pride, to make the elf, who needed freedom on a soul level, to think he is still free, her equal partner, with his own agency, while he was kissing her feet and apologizing, for when she broke the whip on his back. Resisting something like this, as her point of origin, was not easy on a good day, and there weren't any of those in over an Earth decade. Once again, reality reminded her what she can never have, the decisions and their consequences making full circle.
Energy couldn't be changed, only transformed. The potential of evil that birthed her was so horrific, she was in this regard like Livia, but worse, her evil was mental, not murder. She used up all of herself on not becoming evil, when life turned so horrific, it would've broken people stronger than her. So even if she would physically live, mentally she was like someone tortured for decades, she had no normality left inside of her for a healthy relationship. She needed a mental hospice, not a new relationship.
Gods, she thought - does he think this will work? Does he think I have no concept of pretended emotions, of acting even through a mind link? Of where Astarion picked some of his cues and who demonstrated them?
… Abandon him and collaborate with me, together we could rule Baldur's Gate, nay, the world - Cazador spoke his eyes full of respect and lust, to have her join him. Even if he truly felt that, it didn't matter.
As I was speaking… you can absolutely goad me into killing you - again by the way. Which would really anger him, as he deserves to be the one who kills you, and yes, you can goad me into losing my shit, and biting through that disgusting throat of yours, and then spitting out your black blood. And you know what would happen?
He would punish me, and hate me.
And you would still be dead. She hissed out.
Cazador swallowed. Slight smile disappeared from the impression of his mind.
So for everything that is holy, shut your fucking mouth when it comes to me, and beg him. I want to see you beg him. She whispered.
Cazador was old. That meant he could tell true insanity when it stared him in the eye. Mind.
Cazador was thinking quickly, and the scales did not fall in his favor: insanity was one thing, worse… he could feel the love: he realized: power is nothing to this creature, she can see the power he is offering her, and even if he would actually legitimately make her an equal cherished bride…
Cazador felt his eyes widen in shock as he caught a snippet:
It's worthless to her… as she had to spend months controlling herself from one biggest impulse, that ruled her more than the Bhaalspawn's Dark Urge: to leave, alone, for Baldur's Gate, kill Cazador, and deliver his head to Astarion on a silver platter, kneeling in supplication, head bowed, not even looking above his ungrateful spawn's feet:
Astarion… I would lay all your enemies heads at your feet. I would give you the stars themselves, if I could. If you would have me, I would dedicate all my power to you.
She didn't, because Astarion wanted to kill his master himself… Cazador thought. What did she ask for?
Oh yes…
"My son… please… have mercy…"
"Like you had mercy?" Astarion asked.
"Please… please… I was wrong… about you… my son… my precious son… "
…Perverse pleasure coming from the girl, she loves this moment.
Yesss… beg. She thought her last, before she broke the mind link.
But she could see, Astarion didn't enjoy it as much, as he thought he would…
"One more thrust and I could be free of you. I never will have to fear you again. but if I complete the ritual… I never have to fear anyone…"
"Astarion…" - She spoke. "… Wait… "
"What. Speak quickly!" He spat at her.
"I will say what I have to say… and leave, regardless of your decision." She said and sniffed, wiping tears impatiently.
"You want to steal the ritual to desecrate his life's work, but you are blinded… Taking over the ritual doesn't steal his life's work, it honors it."
What? Astarion thought. "How?" He asked.
"If it happens despite his death, even if it kills him as one of the Seven - it's still a victory. You saw what Vellioth showed us, when we found Cazador's bedchamber and learnt of 11 years he spend impaled, because he failed to overthrow Vellioth. They both laughed when Cazador killed him…. You killing him… become another link in the chain. You may be killing him… but … he is the victor."
"You… You're wrong. I told you. I will take over the ritual and resist how it would change me." He said, but lost some confidence.
"Starting out your new life by killing 7000 souls? Innocents? Sebastian?"
Astarion felt the dagger fall next to his thigh in his hand.
"I must be stronger, I hate it but he is right… About me…"
Astarion whispered, defeated. "I am weak and you… Or anyone else I would love… deserves strength. Protection. Power and a palace. You deserve more… Than a spawn. God knows, you deserve more than a homeless former slave, who owns nothing but clothes on his back." Astarion admitted.
Cazador laughed cruelly, but his laugh was cut like with a knife, when the girl looked at him.
Suddenly, the spawn vampire became painfully hard in the face, he felt like a stone. "And I deserve revenge for all the humiliation." He said and he looked utterly horrifying.
"You fool." She looked back to Astarion, her eyes soft again.
Their minds connected on their own, without their agency, again. And she whispered.
You are stronger than me, as you are, right now. I never ever beheld a creature like you. You are tadpoled and with threat of the Absolute… And you still fight for a true relationship with me. if not me, someone else. You want to love and be loved back…
In fact, you are so starved for love…. that if Shadowheart and you fall in love, and yes it's possible…
She showed him the visual. Showed him the images of another alternative line - the Sharran half-elf gathers the blood of the Nightsong she killed, and goes with you to the cemetery… You are with her there, as she pours the blood of Aylin she saved onto the statue of Seluné. You are with her, standing there as she desecrates the statue, for you would stand with anyone… just to be loved back. To be wanted. As long as the world isn't on fire, you're happy to stand by a monster.
Astarion was stunned, as he could literally see the image she sent him, the visual of it, as it happened on a strand… And scared she… Saw him. Naked.
If I didn't exist, if we do not meet, you would fall for someone, anyone, who offers you love. She continued.
Astarion felt true terror and humiliation, in that moment. So it was insane, that with her next words, she destroyed those sensations completely.
That's why I was felled by you. She whispered.
You kept faith you can love, and be loved back, you fought for your life and freedom, and whatever happens next: these you won. I don't find him impressive, and look how much power he wielded, Cazador. I don't find anyone impressive because they wield power, be it Raphael, or Ketheric, or Cazador, or Bhaal. You were the one who, in my eyes, held true power for you did something I wasn't able to do: you somehow kept the shape of your soul... Wanted safety above all, but still willing to risk love…? You remained able to love, wanting your happy ending, willing to pursue it. I never… saw anything, anyone… like that, ever before. Someone who was scarred as deeply as me, and it twisted them so completely, took everything away from them… but one thing. This was the first thing I lost… never to retrieve it on my own.
The most important thing. No, you nourished this part of yourself, saving it, should you ever be free. Decided to love, and be loved, as soon as you're free. This was why you fought for freedom, this is why you didn't walk into the sunlight, despite two hundred years of torment.
Astarion was stunned speechless.
So… if you insist on Ascending… Cutting into Cazador's back and replacing yourself with him in the ritual… I won't participate in this. I won't be your eyes. If you insist I cannot stop you… Talk someone else into helping you.
Please. You know what I showed you, the part of you that impressed me so, your ability to love, doesn't disappear in the Ascendant, it's just subjugated by his inability to be vulnerable, and therefore, makes him incapable of true intimacy. He cannot stand the willing slavery of love and… I get it. Ascendant is always weaker than you. Ascendant Astarion is always a true fucking weakling, a weak boy who amounts to nothing: that's how I see him. The fantasy of Araj Oblodra and those like her, of a seductive dark, master vampire, the fantasy you were forced to play, and hated, for two hundred years. I loved you as a vampire.
I would've loved you, if you never became one.
She wiped her tears.
I believed you can be… more … Even more than what he made you to be, even more than what you made of yourself despite him. If you insist on Ascending I now see… I was wrong about that.
She turned to leave. She started to walk up the stairs. He looked at her back, stunned. And he realized whatever happened next, she couldn't bear to watch.
She loved even the weak, cruel boy Ascendant was, she just couldn't stand to be near him. And she couldn't watch him perform the Ritual. Wouldn't be able to stand him, if he completed it. Inside, he was still the same person, but his choices changed.
You can love an addict, but you can never be with an addict.
She knew what would happen next, and couldn't watch. Sebastian, Chessa and the others, kids… are about to die. Go, be with them in their final moments, hold their hands, feed them, anything.
She started to run up to the cells, leaving the party and Astarion behind.
She made it to the cells, and wanted to put her hand between the bars, but couldn't find opening that would fit it. Fingers would fit, not wrist and they're liable to bite a finger off…
Where is the hole Sebastian used to try to grab Astarion's throat? She couldn't find it. So she just stood there, her and Sebastian made eye contact. Her eyes wordlessly saying and he understood: it was over. Whatever happened there… They would die. And she didn't want them, him, to be alone in their last moments.
"I would feed you if I could…"
"My lady…" Sebastian whispered.
Does he realize how sweet his voice is? She thought. Astarion must've loved hearing Sebastian sigh his name in pleasure.
She tried to fit her fingers through.
"My lady, please! Please… don't stick your hand here… we're all ravenous… But your thought means so much to us." He whispered.
"Then… fine. But… I will stay." She responded quietly. And kept looking into Sebastian's eyes.
Till the end, went unsaid.
Sebastian nodded. He knew whatever happened… Ascension would take place. Their gazes stayed connected, but then she had another idea.
She thought: how about… and used a knife to cut her wrist, all the spawn smelled the blood and their eyes were glowing even more, and when she was sure he would choose wrong… she was about to see them explode into red gore…
Maybe she had seconds? She could at least flick her wrist, fling the drops at them, anything?
Astarion stood there, stunned. What she said about the dearly departed Sharran… stung. But he could feel the truth of it: anyone. Anyone who would love him back, and treat him right, and only him, the rest of the world be damned. Just as long as it wasn't completely on fire, because if someone set the world on fire, they cared more about the fire than you, and this was not what he signed up for. She knew all of it… still loved him?
He clicked. But couldn't be with him, as she needed to be chosen for herself, not just that she had love to offer, so he wanted her.
And she… saw him as impressive… because of what he knew was the weakest, most pathetic and cringeworthy part of him? The one he suspected existed and never wanted her, anyone, to see, she knew? The one most worthy of mockery? This powerful creature… Was… felled by him?
I thought you can be more than what he made you to be, more even than you made of yourself, despite him.
Because he stayed starved, and pathetic for love, and stayed able to receive it!? Seriously?! Because he didn't care who it would be, he would be loyal, just… love me. Please.
That? That is what impressed her?
More, than what he made you to be.
What… what did he see in her memories of Ascendant, once? A cruel whisper, cruel eyebrows and red eyes and Astarion a monster just…
…before…
… Ascension…
"Time to take your place". He whispered to Cazador.
Did he not realize what he just said….?
You cannot be proud of this. But breaking this chain… You can be.
And she… She who coldly would defy Bhaal without a single fear… She who was impressed by no one… Explained Astarion accomplished, what she wanted and failed to do. That's why she admired him more than anyone else.
"I… I can be." said Astarion whispered to himself. Knew she couldn't hear him. But... it wasn't even about being with her. Even if he couldn't… Bhaalbabe Livia planned to reject her father, right?
He could, too. After what she said, he realized this… didn't hold that much appeal suddenly. He couldn't explain it logically in any way, he just knew that after she spoke, he saw the whole thing and it no longer drew him so…
In fact, it drew him less and less with every second, regardless of whether she wanted him or not, whether he would have her or not. Or anyone else.
Killing Cazador, being killed by his own spawn made to be consumed, interrupting the ritual so it never came to be… Wasn't that humiliating as fuck?
Fuck that. He would learn to live in the shadows. Again.
He looked at Cazador, and saw careful hidden triumph and suddenly knew: she is right, if he will die anyway, this is his prize. This honors him. If the ritual is completed… And he came up with the ritual. He wins if I Ascend. He made his progeny right, he made a true heir. A king Ascends only by killing his own father. And crap like that. If death is inevitable… This is the second best price someone completes the ritual. Maybe not such a useless, imperfect son after all…
And I almost fell for it, he felt… A relief, like when someone avoids a lethal trap.
"One thing you thought me how to do: I will relish this moment." He said out loud to Cazador. His eyes narrowed. His "master" tried to seem smaller and less of a threat. As if.
And then Astarion stabbed Cazador.
Over, and over, and over.
He started to scream, as the blade kept thrusting. For everything. For everything you did to me, to us, to everyone. For every soul we brought you, you fucking monster. Tears fell. memories he couldn't stand… the truth that happened…
Cazador fell… like a mortal almost. His body trembling in his last moments, a pool of black blood under him.
Astarion was breathing hard, tears falling, and it hit him:
It's over. It's over. It's over.
His tears were still flowing, just calmer… When the red glow disappeared.
His siblings were released. The ritual… would not be.
"Is it over?" Dal asked. The others looked around, confused, unsure.
"Yes."
"What happens now?"
"Aaa… that is the question."
He took the Woe. Didn't need anyone's advice anymore. He focused on the power in the staff: and released them.
The cells released...
She was shocked.
He… he changed his mind, she thought. Sebastian looked at her with hunger in his eyes… her wrist was bleeding… and pounced.
She was sure her skull cracked from impact of the marble floor, as he ended up on her, and honestly, she didn't even blame him. 170 years of pure hunger. She fully realized she should expect the other spawn to jump on her arms, legs, and devour her, before the rest of the party even makes it to the top of the stairs…
And she could barely care. Good end as any other. At least they will eat.
Not to mention the wonderful revenge of hurting Astarion back, Sebastian able to hurt him back, taking away something, from the one who led him to his doom. She couldn't fight, she submitted. The bite in her throat was so fucking vicious, she almost fainted from pain.
Someone ripped Sebastian off of her, shredding her throat, the spawn being thrown against a wall and crushing there. Had it been less than a spawn, he would've been dead instantly, but he was just injured. She looked up at who was standing above her. She knew she was dying.
The party realized something was happening near the cells… immediately as soon as Astarion's siblings started to walk the stairs… Noise near cells, a commotion… Astarion realized: what if she was about to feed them, the idiot? And they…
"We have to go!" He started to run.
Just in time to see… himself.
The prideful features and harsh eyes. Banked red glow, and Astarion's beauty… somehow subdued. Looking at him blinded her: not this time. This Astarion was ugly to her, just like that, which could mean only one thing…
Confused… What she was looking at… was the Ascendant… What just happened?! What the ever loving fuck?
"On your knees, darling…" She remembered that. Soft tone, soft words her mind reminded her, voice she actually heard spoken to her… where's that fucking save file pleaseeeeee, eight hours of gameplay lost, she gave it her best, but couldn't stand him.
And she grieved for him.
"On your knees, darling…"
nofuckingway
But… what happened?
Ascendant Astarion bent and picked her up with one arm and threw her over his shoulder: and she didn't weigh as little as willowy Livia. What is happening?
The Gur started to run, they were shooting arrows indiscriminately, but mostly at the Ascended Astarion and her… Because she was practically a shield for his torso, there was shouting…
Suddenly, she saw what she missed from the floor: a portal opened in the middle of the space between two cells, round and large and brimming with power. Ascended walked, like he was on a park stroll. She tried to look over his shoulder… Saw the party running… too far away, too late, she thought.
Astarion who didn't Ascend watched, as the other one looked at him with utter satisfaction, and not a little contempt, and mockery… As he stepped into the portal with her on his shoulder. And disappeared. The portal closed - and vanished with a quiet clink.
"No!"
But it was too late. Oh gods, what will he do, what will I do… this is my fault… She isn't safe with him!
Withers, he thought, trembling with fear, we need Withers…
"Withers!" Screamed Karlach. This was no normal portal. If this was a parallel line portal, only those close to gods could even hope to open it.
Livia was horrified beyond belief. "He took her… to a parallel version..." - she whispered.
"This was you who took her." - Halsin says, his eyes round from fear.
"I am afraid… it was the one I just declined to be."
Astarion was trembling: too much stimulation, too much happening, he felt like a traumatized child, unsure what to do, how to act…
Livia was shaking, her mind working furiously how could this even happen: every path… can change, every choice… can cause a different result. This was most likely the closest parallel: you chose to Ascend. And… maybe she died in his world or something else happened… Either way… this isn't a portal to Sorcerous' vaults, or even to the Prism… This was a portal to a parallel line! How did he even do that?! No one has such power! This is a power on the level of the Crown or something…
"So… she is lost to us?" Whispered Halsin.
"No. We are getting her back." Astarion proclaimed. He was trembling. He fully understood what Ascendant could, and would, do with her. To leave her with him… wasn't an option. Everything Astarion would, if he lost ability to tell the difference between making an injured animal come to you, and forcing it to yield by its neck.