Astarion x M!Reader

Thirty-Seven

Even though Cazador knew his way around the darkness, had almost mastered it and let it into every corner of your damned heart, the sight of hell was still a little disconcerting to him.

Nothing that touched his body mattered, and yet. The wind was cold, icy even, to the extent that it felt like his skin was trying to peel away from his flesh. It smelled of dust and rock, mixed with despair.

A pleasant scent, he thought, and smiled.

He took a step on the stony path. All at once, a fire burned in his bones. Not on his skin and not in his flesh, but in the innermost bones that kept him on his feet.

Annoyed, he gritted his teeth and wiped away the pain with the thought that he would soon never feel such agony again. It was as if the sun was burning inside his body.

Sunlight.

There wasn't much that could harm Cazador, at least not anymore. But after all these centuries, there was still this longing in him, the yearning for the golden glow of day. It was silly for him to think about it, but he missed being able to walk in the warmth of the sun.

No weakness. Soon he would feel no more weakness.

And then he would also be rid of the discomfort that had been raging in his chest since he had finally seen your face again.

Platinum. Like your presence, your name had disappeared from his memory centuries ago, swallowed by darkness and buried under less important knowledge.

But there was something that his soul refused to let go of. This feeling that you triggered in him without having to do anything for it. Just like back then. And just like then, he still hated how much power you had over him.

Again he took a step. This time it felt like his chest was turning to ice. Snorting, he threw his head back, strands of your black hair falling into his face.

"Mephistopheles!", he shouted into the endless void.

His voice echoed in all the hells. Nine hells.

Who needed so much space, so much sin?

Well, Cazador couldn't complain, he was quite comfortable down here. Provided his path was not made unnecessarily difficult.

Huge boulders loomed over his head as if they were no heavier than clouds. The wind howled. The ice disappeared from his body.

Now he felt weightless. Almost as if something had been stolen from him.

"How long will you keep your guest waiting?", he called out, not expecting an answer.

The one he wanted to speak to rarely answered. And when they did, it was rarely in clear words. It had been a miracle that they had made a deal with him. But it hadn't been a surprise either. When one commanded hell, nine in number, one were happy for every lost soul one could grab.

And Cazador had offered just that. Souls. And not too few of them.

"Mephistopheles.", again he called that name, which made his tongue burn and his heart freeze.

He hated and loved it at the same time. Just as if he were calling for you. Just as he had done then, trapped in the darkness of Vellioth the Martinet, to whom he had willingly given himself to protect you.

Or had it been to steel himself?

Now it was too late to worry about it. He had more might, more than the old man had ever had. And soon he would have more power than anyone before or after him. He would be the one vampire. Resurrected and yet so much more than just mortal.

"Is that any way to treat your guests?", Cazador lifted his chin, arms outstretched and a selfish smirk on his lips.

He strutted around like he owned hell. Suddenly the ground shook beneath his feet. It surprised him but he refused to stumble. Instead, he pushed off his feet and hovered for a few seconds until it was over.

All at once, the air in front of him distorted. The smell had changed. Now it was decaying flesh that filled his nose. That and the smell of a campfire burning down.

A strange darkness grew at the edge of the rock on which he stood. Claws of shadow dug in so deep that cracks grew.

"You are impertinent, vampire.", a thousand voices and a thousand more filled his head.

The creature made of shapeless shadows had no lips, could not speak. And yet he heard it with all his might.

Inhaling the air sharply, Cazador gritted his teeth. He would have liked to fall to his knees and pull his brains out of his ears until the blood soaked his clothes.

But he knew that was not his desire. It was the power of Mephistopheles playing with him. The ruler of hell wanted to see if he could resist him. And if not, he would have another soul to add to his collection.

"I would apologise.", Cazador bowed his head just low enough to make it seem polite. "But you called me."

"Silence!", again the ground shook beneath his feet. "My request will be communicated to you. A bargain can be struck."

Cazador raised an eyebrow in interest.

"You have my interest, King of Sinners.", he said.

"Interest, attention. It has no value, like dust between fingers. Listen and choose."

"A choice. I have a choice?"

"No. Then it is not trade but slavery."

Claws dug so deep into stone that chunks broke from the rocks. Cazador jumped back, his arms crossed behind his back so he wouldn't look like a threat. He was only too keen to know how to kill a shadow.

"Words. Too many words, too few decisions, vampire!"

"Forgive me.", again he bowed his head just enough. "Keep talking."

"Yes. Our deal. Ten thousand to become vampire ascendant."

Something tightened in Cazador's stomach at the number. Ten thousand was a lot, even for someone who had endless time. They all needed to be made into spawns, to be fit to be marked with the scars so that one day in the distant future he could sacrifice them for his own purposes.

Actually, he had hoped not to get his hands dirty, but without Astarion, things were going a little slowly. He had managed to bring three, sometimes even four back from his hunts. The others struggled with as little as one a night.