Just one bite Astarion x reader

Cazador and his right of prophane ascension

As the tension in the aftermath of the battle eased, Raphael reappeared, his charming demeanor unfaltering despite the gruesome scene that lay before him. His eyes fixated on Astarion with a knowing glint, a silent invitation to reveal the long-concealed secrets behind the vampire's mysterious scars.

"Ah, dear Astarion, you must have pondered the origins of these peculiar marks," Raphael spoke with an air of theatrical intrigue. "Allow me to enlighten you. Those scars upon your back, they tell a tale of infernal pacts and ambitions far beyond your reckoning."

Astarion tensed, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity flashing across his features. "What do you know of them, fiend? Speak plainly, or I'll carve the truth from your lips."

Raphael merely chuckled, undisturbed by the threat. "A bold claim, my dear vampire. But let us delve into the truths you've long sought."

With a wave of his hand, an otherworldly image materialized, depicting an ancient and dark ritual. Astarion's breath hitched as he recognized the figures—the ominous silhouette of his master, Cazador, and an imposing presence wreathed in infernal power, Mephistopheles, one of the archdevils of the Nine Hells.

"The scars upon your back are more than mere marks," Raphael explained, his voice carrying the weight of forbidden knowledge. "They are the remnants of a binding pact—a devilish contract forged between your master, Cazador, and the archdevil Mephistopheles himself."

Astarion's eyes widened with a mix of shock and realization, his voice barely above a whisper. "A pact? But what does it entail?"

"The terms are dark and binding," Raphael continued, his voice lowering to an ominous tone. "They serve as the key to an ascension ritual—a ritual crafted by Cazador to transcend his vampiric nature, ascending to a form more potent and powerful than mere undeath—a living vampire."

The weight of Raphael's words hung heavily in the air, the revelation sinking in like a sinister whisper. Astarion's expression shifted from astonishment to a profound sense of dread and anger. "And these scars... they're part of this ritual? A tool to bind me to this infernal scheme?"

Raphael nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. "Precisely. The scars are a physical manifestation of your bond to this pact—a link between your existence and the dark designs of your master."

With that revelation, Raphael disappeared, leaving us standing in the eerie aftermath of our battle and the newfound knowledge that now loomed over Astarion.

A palpable tension enveloped us as the weight of the revelations settled upon our shoulders. Astarion's gaze fell upon the scars etched upon his back, a painful reminder of the infernal entanglement that shackled him to a destiny not of his choosing.

"I was a pawn," Astarion's voice was a mixture of anger and resignation. "Used as a tool in a scheme I never understood."

"You didn't have a choice," I said softly, attempting to offer solace amidst the unsettling truth. "None of this was by your design."

Astarion turned to face me, a haunted look in his eyes. "But now I have a choice, don't I? What comes next? Could I use the ritual's power for myself?"

Silence lingered between us, heavy with the weight of uncertainty and newfound possibilities. The ritual Raphael spoke of—this twisted ascension—loomed as both a curse and a potential avenue for change.

"The ritual..." I began cautiously, mulling over the implications. "It could grant you power beyond what you've known, power that's yours to wield. But that kind of power always comes at a price."

Astarion regarded me with a mix of contemplation and apprehension. "Are you suggesting I not pursue this path? It's not without risk, I'll admit. But I would never have to fear anything again."

I met his gaze, determination laced in my words. "That does sound tempting, whatever you choose to do, I will support you."

His expression softened, a trace of gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, my dear."