Chapter Text
“So what is it like being one of the famed heroes of Baldur’s Gate?”
Jerking his head back, Astarion finished his glass of champagne in one gulp. He then lifted the crystal flute to a waiter a few feet away from the impertinent woman in front of him and set the empty glass down on a mahogany table. The waiter swiftly brought him another and took the finished glass so efficiently it was as if it hadn’t been done at all. Refreshed drink in hand, to Astarion’s chagrin, the woman was still standing in front of him, an embarrassingly eager smile plastered onto her over-rouged face.
Astarion took a sip. He’d grown accustomed to very fine things during his time in Rothvain. He was as used to champagne that cost more than a house per bottle as he was the fine silk doublets he wore. Luxury could grow a bit boring after a while. But it never ceased to be comforting.
He blinked, remembering he had to respond to the woman, who was still standing there expectantly in a ghastly chartreuse gown. “Sorry what was that, darling? I couldn’t hear you over the music.”
“That’s completely fine,” she giggled, and nudged his arm with her hand. A gesture that was far too familiar considering he couldn’t even remember her name. “I asked what it’s like being one of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate?”
Astarion’s smile was automatic. He was used to this question by now. When he’d first been recognised and asked about his adventures, it had been quite the shock. But bard’s songs traveled across realms rather quickly and his appearance and manners were quite distinctive. It wasn’t until his status as a saviour started earning him free perks that he began loudly boasting of his travels for all to hear. The king of Rothvain had been rather impressed when he’d heard it himself and it had earned Astarion a place in his court.
“Oh you know, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“No?”
“Well unless you like endless parties, presents, and adoring fans of course.”
The woman tittered as if anything he’d said had been all that amusing. Really, he was starting to think he was losing his touch. The king wanted him to captivate his guests with daring tales that displayed his combative abilities, but all Astarion could do was make lame jokes about reaping the rewards that came after those stories.
“There you are!” a sweet voice called out to him, ringing out like the chiming of a bell. “Father’s been looking all over for you.”
“Ah well,” Astarion said as the princess wrapped a gloved hand around the crook of his arm. “My future father-in-law calls, you do understand.”
If the woman had a poor reaction to this, Astarion would never know as he turned swiftly away and followed his fiance to the throne where the king sat.
The king was a stately man. Round about the middle with a full beard and excellent robes draping around him, he looked quite like an extravagant portrait come to life.
His majesty often did this at parties. Beckoned Astarion to come to his side and invited him to meet with men and women from all over the realm. He always introduced him as the man who was going to marry his daughter and rid Rothvain of their eternal darkness.
A rather difficult expectation to live up to.
As always, Astarion was asked to share stories of defeating the Netherbrain and the Dead Three, despite the fact that they knew everything he was going to say. Everything he said came from more rote memorisation than actual lived experience. He didn’t relive any of the events as he explained them, almost as if he was only as familiar with the stories as a bard writing a clunky verse about them would be.
“And do you really think you could defeat the shadow dragon threatening our lands?” a woman acquainted with the king asked. Some duchess or council member or something. He hadn’t been paying attention when she’d introduced herself.
Before he could answer, the king swooped in, “What is a dragon when compared to a Netherbrain?”
“When will you send out the expedition?” an older gentleman to the king’s right asked.
“When we have enough trained and ready soldiers,” the king explained. “We are still preparing.”
That had been the king’s excuse for the past few months. He was clearly hesitant to make a real move. Likely why they’d been so easily taken by the dragon in the first place.
“What will come first?” someone asked. “The beast’s vanquishment, or the royal nuptials?”
Everyone laughed politely and the king answered, “I would want my daughter married as soon as possible. But I’d rather see her wed under Lathander’s grace than in Shar’s wicked darkness.”
The princess, Genevieve’s hand tightened on Astarion’s arm. She beamed up at him as he pointedly looked away, stomach churning. A vampire being wed by a priest of Lathander in the full adornment of the sun. Why, that’d be a sight. Just not a very long one.
The party passed as usual after that. Astarion did his part, reassuring everyone he would save them from their curse, telling stories, dancing with his fiance, and enjoying all the wine Rothvain had to offer.
Well, it passed as usual for a while at least.
Astarion had been preparing to call it a night. His head was fuzzy with drink and he could only stomach so much conversation with truly insufferable people in one night. That was until a tan hand stretched just into his peripheral and a deep voice asked:
“May I have this dance?”
He was prepared to deny it. That was until he saw who had made the request.
Astarion couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. Just stared back at the devil who had asked him to dance.
Though he was distinctly aware of the way that his jaw hung open, Astarion was powerless to do anything to fix this. Disturbingly, Raphael seemed to be reveling in his shock.
“How are you…” he started dumbly before realising he had no idea how to finish that sentence. “What are you doing here?”
“I am simply enjoying a grand ball with no ulterior motives,” he winked. The devil had the damned nerve to wink. “Just as you are.”
Astarion glanced back in the direction of the king and queen who seemed blissfully unaware of anything transpiring. Still, Astarion felt as if everyone there knew and was carefully watching him for his next move. But no one cared. The party moved on as usual. As if not a single soul was aware that a murderous and vengeful cambion stood in their midst. They likely didn’t.
“What do you want?”
“Tetchy,” Raphael tutted, “I just wanted a dance with one of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate.” He said it loftily, voice booming as he pronounced each syllable. He said it as if it were ridiculous. And it was, Astarion knew just how much.
Of course, the last thing he wanted was to dance with Raphael. They hadn’t exactly left things off on good terms, if the ransacked house and dead devils he and his friends had left behind were anything to go off of. But if they kept standing there, if Astarion kept looking at him as if he were moments away from pulling out a dagger, people might grow suspicious. If they danced, they’d blend right in. Astarion would just appear to be doing his social duty.
“Fine,” he said, taking Raphael’s and letting him lead him to the centre of the floor. He’d been expecting extreme heat when their skin would touch, but Raphael felt oddly… normal. Almost human. Perhaps it was a result of being in his mortal appearing form. Or perhaps the devil didn’t run as hot as he claimed. “What do you want?” he repeated.
“I think the real question is, what do you want?” Raphael smiled. His dark hair was combed back elegantly and a gold and black ensemble sat nicely against his tan skin. He was as handsome as he was loathsome. Although, perhaps under the soft glow of the candlelight, Astarion had to admit he was a tad more of the former. “And what I can offer.” Ah, no. That surely tipped the scales towards loathsome once again.
“I’m not making any deals with you,” he snapped, fixing his gaze just a few centimetres from Raphael’s face, watching the room spin as they gently turned about it.
“Ah, so you’re only interested in making deals with kings. I see.”
“I haven’t made any deals with the king.”
“No? So he didn’t promise you his daughter’s hand and a place in his court if you helped to slay the great dragon in the mountain that’s plaguing his kingdom?”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
Raphael smiled once again and Astarion tried very hard not to look at it once again. The hand around his waist tightened and he fought the urge to step out of his grasp. What an admission of failure that would be. “I’m sure. But it is convenient, isn’t it? That you find yourself in a kingdom that just so happens to have been plunged into eternal night? And you expect me to believe that you have any intention of lifting this curse. How do you think your future family would react if your skin began burning in the sunlight? Would this pious royal family, devoted to the Morninglord himself, kindly welcome in a vampiric son-in-law?”
“I don’t plan on staying very long,” Astarion bit out.
“No, getting married typically doesn’t signify any sort of commitment.”
“What was I supposed to do? Deny the requests of a king?”
“Well you’ll have to, won’t you? Slay the beast, and you lose your comfortable little hideaway. Your chance of living out in the open, in wealth and luxury will be gone in an instant. Your chance at living at all may be under threat. If the sun doesn’t get you, the righteous king and his knights of Lathander surely will. But you can’t delay it forever.”
“I told you,” Astarion affirmed, “this was always meant to be temporary. Let’s just say my lifestyle requires me to move around quite frequently.”
“I see. Be gone before the knives and pitchforks are fully sharpened. Or should I say stakes?”
Astarion rolled his eyes so far in the back of his head he was surprised they didn’t get stuck. “Hilarious.”
“No matter how far you run, where you go, if they discover the truth about your identity, you’d never be seen as anything more than a monster.” Astarion’s eyes finally darted back to look at Raphael. Before he could come up with a retort, the devil said, “What if I could promise you a way to stand in the sun again?”
It was a struggle to not trip over his own shoes.
“Alright,” he said, trying to keep his voice even, “you have my attention. What do you want?”
“Just a trifle really. Nothing much to concern yourself over.”
“Oh sure.”
Moving his hand to the small of Astarion’s back, Raphael brought him in closer, slowing their dancing as he quickly surveyed the room. “I need help with an important mission,” he spoke in lowered tones. It was hardly necessary. No one in the room was paying attention to them, all too busy focusing on themselves.
“By any chance, could I learn what this precious mission is?”
“I need to procure an item that’s being kept in one of the highest security vaults in all the hells. In the second layer, in the city of Dis. You will aid me in the journey, the acquisition of the item, and stand by my side in combat if necessary.”
“You want me to go to the hells?” Astarion asked incredulously.
“Naturally.”
“What sort of item is it?”
“A very important one,” Raphael explained with the sort of exercised patience he’d seen in him before. It was how he talked when he was trying to make a deal. “Many people won’t want me to have it. It is well guarded and thus why I need someone of your particular… let’s say talents shall we?”
“Careful not to insult me when you’re trying to negotiate a deal,” Astarion warned. Logistically, he knew he could walk away at any time. And surely that would be satisfying to leave the smug devil alone on the dancefloor and wound his pride a bit. But they both know that wouldn’t happen. Not when the sun had been put on the table. “And by people I assume you mean devils?”
“Devils and their mortal servants. Wizards, warlocks. Soldiers and more. Whatever the paranoid Dispater would deem necessary to protect his most valuable items.”
“Sounds like a delightful time.”
Raphael smirked. “Well I know how much you enjoy killing.”
They’d slowed in their dancing. Raphael was practically just holding him. His gaze was piercing, just as intense as Astarion had remembered. But there was something wholly different about him. Something he couldn’t quite place. “Why me? Don’t you have plenty of staff, powerful devils at your disposal?”
“I cannot tell if you’re being purposefully crass or incidentally ignorant. But I will give you the benefit of the doubt and remind you that you and your little adventuring friends murdered my staff.” Somewhat warily he added, “I admit, I am a bit low on resources at the moment. And besides, don’t cut yourself short. Everyone in this hall has been discussing your heroics all night. Word has spread far and wide. Besides, you’re quite adept at slaying devils, exactly the kind of experience I’m looking for. Our last deal worked out quite well.”
“I’m not so sure of that.”
“And why not?” Raphael asked. “We both got what we wanted, didn’t we?”
“Killing an orthon was a bit more than I’d signed up for.”
“But you did a fantastic job. Why concern yourself over it now?”
Logically, Astarion knew Raphael was right. In the most basic sense of the word. They had both gotten what they wanted. Everything had worked out. But still, that deal had left him with a sour aftertaste.
Before he could respond, Genevieve was once again at his side. He wasn’t sure if he was more or much less grateful for the interruption this time.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “So you’ve met the count!”
Astarion looked back at Raphael who had an impish grin on his face. “The count? I– of course. What a wonderful dancing partner he’s made.”
Raphael bowed. “Delighted to make your acquaintance.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she started, “the queen is requesting his presence.”
“Of course,” Raphael acquiesced with a slight nod of his head. “I’ll see you later, I’m sure.” When Genevieve’s back was turned, Astarion looked back. Raphael winked.
It turned out that Astarion did see Raphael. Quite often. Apparently he was staying with a nearby and respected lord. Who just so happened to be Genevieve’s godfather. Astarion wondered when he had time to juggle the responsibilities of a devil of the nine hells and build a false reputation as an important count.
Oddly enough, Raphael did not push Astarion on their prospective deal again. Time passed as it had before. Astarion attended pointless meetings where the king and his army outlined strategies for taking on the dragon, he went for walks in the gardens with his fiance under the cover of a pitchblack smoky sky, and enjoyed all the comforts that being in proximity to royalty provided. And Raphael didn’t talk to him. But he was watching.
It was subtle, but it was there. He’d catch his gaze in the halls, or the gardens, in the banquet hall during grand meals. Raphael never shied away from eye contact or tried to conceal what he was clearly doing. But he left Astarion alone all the same.
Astarion was trying his best to pretend that Raphael was not even there. But he could not lie to himself.
The devil had a solution. A way to let him stand in the sun again.
Of course, he knew at once how his friends would scold him for even thinking of it. Karlach and Wyll especially. Shadowheart would likely call him an idiot and Lae’zel would just shake her head. Even Gale, who had been willing to work with Raphael in the beginning, would call him foolish now.
And Tav. He could practically see the look that would be on her face if she knew. It was nearly impossible to withstand not only her scrutiny, but her disappointment as well.
It was a horrid idea to even consider it, he knew. Raphael wasn’t just a devil, but a devil they’d worked together to destroy. They’d robbed him, destroyed his servants – and much of the architecture in the process. It seemed very likely to him that he could be out for revenge or some other wicked plot to get even. On top of that, the mission Raphael had mentioned seemed even worse than his job from the last deal. Stealing from devils in the hells. He didn’t know much about the different layers, but of course he’d heard about the mad Dispater. Breaking into his realm did not seem like a smart idea.
But… he might have a way. A way to make him stand in the sun again.
It wouldn’t hurt to ask, Astarion reasoned to himself as he approached Raphael in the garden one dark afternoon. It was just curiosity. That’s all.
“How do you plan on doing it then?”
Raphael, who was reading a book (likely some insufferable collection of poetry), held up a finger and kept his focus on the page.
Placing a hand on his hip, Astarion scoffed but waited. And waited. The devil licked his forefinger and turned the page.
“You cannot seriously think this little act is at all convincing,” Astarion said, “I can tell you’re not even reading.”
Still, Raphael kept on reading as if he hadn’t been interrupted. A completely ridiculous negotiating tactic. Finally, he placed a bookmark in between the pages and snapped the book shut, setting it aside and greeting Astarion with a pleasant smile that suggested nothing was amiss. “How can I help you?”
“Were you so engrossed in the written word you couldn’t hear my question?” he asked, voice dripping with sickly sweet sarcasm. “How would you do it? Cure my…” he glanced around nervously. You never knew who was listening in a king’s court. “My affliction.”
“I cannot cure anything.”
“Then–”
“I have a ring. Well, I don’t have it with me now, but I could easily obtain it. A ring of solar protection that would allow you to live freely in the sun once again. You could leave the court of Rothvain and your cons behind.”
Astarion crossed his arms. “Who said I’m conning anyone?”
“Come on, Astarion,” Raphael tilted his head and then opened his arms in what Astarion was sure was meant to be a friendly gesture. “We’re old– well, I shan’t say friends. Acquaintances. Former allies. You don’t have to lie to me.”
“Maybe I will save the people from that dragon. You have no idea,” Astarion said, though he had to admit it was the first time he’d ever actually thought about following through on it. The first time he’d thought about doing anything more than taking advantage of the situation. It’s what Tav would’ve done, an insufferable voice sounded off in his head. Always the hero.
Raphael’s eyes narrowed. Not out of anger, just in neutral analysis. “Perhaps. But then where would you go? You couldn’t stay here and reap the rewards with the rest of the citizenry. It would be quite gallant of you, but I don’t think you’re the self-sacrificing type, are you?”
“You don’t know me.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Raphael said so quietly and melodically it was nearly a hum. He reached to pick up his book again.
“What are you even doing here?” Astarion asked, not wanting to lose his attention so quickly. “Did you come just to make a deal with me?”
“Ha!” Raphael set the book aside once again. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re merely a single part of my reason for being here. I have influence and purpose everywhere. Other objectives to accomplish in the area.”
“Does the king know you’re a devil?” Astarion asked.
“Your sanctimonious father-in-law? No, he doesn’t know. That’s the benefit of being a cambion, you know.” He leaned forward. “We blend in with the furniture.”
“This lord you know, how’d you trick him?”
“Lord Hammel? I didn’t. He’s under contract.”
“Ah,” Astarion said. “So you called in a favour just to talk to me.
“As I told you,” Raphael started, the patience in his voice wearing thin. Something Astarion had noticed the last time he’d had the misfortune of seeing Raphael. He was rather talented at acting magnanimous in front of potential clients. Until someone irritated him to the point of snapping. Which wasn’t too difficult to achieve. “I’m not here to see you.”
“Yes, it’s just I’m not sure I believe you.”
Raphael was silent and certainly not smiling anymore. He stood, pocketing his book and walking down the path laden with rose bushes. Astarion had no choice but to follow. He gazed around with intent, eyes passing over each one. “Why didn’t you just go into the Underdark?”
Astarion had considered it when the Netherbrain fell and Tav… well. When what happened to her happened. He wanted to look for his fellow spawn and see if he could make a go at helping them. But it all felt so hollow after everything that happened. And the thought of being down there, under so much ground seemed suffocating. At least here in Rothvain, even though the kingdom had been in darkness for nearly a year, he could still feel traces of sunlight. And it was much better than what he’d been doing before, going from village to village and staying in taverns and inns until nightfall. Leaving before anyone could grow suspicious. At least in these shadows, he didn’t have to hide.
“It seemed awfully boring down there, don’t you think?” he said, gesturing with his hands in lazy sweeps and arcs. “Horrid drow, awful gnomes, and ugh all those terrible smelling mushrooms. I didn’t fancy it.”
Raphael smiled and then pulled out a small pocketknife from the inside of his extravagantly embroidered doublet. He reached out, stroking the petals of a bright red rose that had managed to bloom even in all this darkness. Perhaps they were enchanting the flowers to keep them pretty. Seemed the kind of thing a king would waste magic on.
“You have a taste for the finer things in life,” Raphael practically purred, stroking tan fingers along the rose’s stem, careful not to snag his skin on the thorns. “Something we have in common.” In a quick motion, he neatly severed the rose from the bush. “Of course, you have your luxury here, but it is quite the precarious position. If the shadows are cleared, you will have to leave. And there’s only so much time you could delay aiding them in their quest before they grow suspicious.”
Astarion felt the urge to counter, but Raphael wasn’t saying anything he didn’t already know. “So,” he sliced off thorns and unsightly leaves in clean practised motions, as if he spent all day working with roses. “If the shadows are clear, you’d have to move on. It would be quite difficult to amass any wealth if you cannot be out in the sun with the rest of civilization. And you’re no vampiric master. You’ll spend the rest of whatever undead immortality you can eke out scampering around in alleyways and tunnels, hiding from monster hunters, scanning the room for prey. Even now, even when you’re draped in fine cloths and jewels, drinking wine out of gold goblets, you’re still focusing on survival.” Reaching out his hand, Raphael offered Astarion the rose as if it were the finest gift in Faerûn. “I can give you so much more. The keys to your freedom.”
“I am free,” Astarion insisted.
“From your master perhaps. But in the world? No, your chains might be gone from your wrists but they still clutch at your spirit. You remain a slave, but only to the shadows now. Have they proved a kinder master than Cazador Szarr?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Astarion said and wrinkled his nose at the sight of the rose before him. “And I detest flowers.”
The side of Raphael’s mouth twitched. In amusement or annoyance, Astarion couldn’t tell. “Well, you haven't accepted my first gift yet.”
Turning on his heel, Astarion began to walk away down the gravel path.
Until:
“One more question. If you can spare any more of your very valuable time.”
Astarion faced the devil once again. “Of course. Anything for old friends, right?”
Raphael twisted the rejected rose back and forth with his fingers. Then, suddenly very serious, he asked, “Why did you spare my life?”
Huffing out a laugh, Astarion said, “You call what we did sparing you? If I remember correctly, I stuck my dagger in your skull.”
“It takes a lot to kill a devil. I was still alive, you saw me, I remember.”
Astarion turned away, feigning curiosity in the rose bushes he’d just claimed to have no interest in.
“You were hallucinating,” he said. “I thought you were dead. You looked dead.”
“Is that so?” Raphael cocked his head to the side. “When I arrived at the ball, you weren’t surprised to see me alive. You were surprised to see me here, but you weren’t surprised I was alive.”
“Think whatever you like, darling,” Astarion said, trying to sound as disinterested as possible. “If I’d known you were still alive, why wouldn’t I have just alerted my friends and killed you then? We weren’t exactly on good terms.”
“Exactly what I’m trying to understand,” Raphael said. “You saw I was alive, and you didn’t tell your companions. You let me live. So, my question is why?”
“I knew you had a tendency towards delusion,” Astarion started, turning to leave. “I didn’t realise you’d completely lost your grip on reality.”
He glanced back as he walked away and saw it written all over Raphael’s face, emphasized by the frown on his face. That lapse in patience. Much more obvious than he thought.
It was later that day, likely night but of course Astarion couldn’t tell and he was far too comfortable lounging across his settee to get up and check the clock. He was enjoying a nice brandy while reading a book about some old wizard from Neverwinter. Honestly, it was a bit of a bore, but there wasn’t much to do to pass the time. But there were plenty of luxury and comforts.
For the time being that is.
Of course, Astarion wasn’t allowed to enjoy a nice evening to himself and one of the king’s servants came to his quarters.
“Your presence is requested in the king’s quarters, sir.”
Throwing his head back, Astarion groaned rather dramatically. “Ugh, can’t it wait for tomorrow?”
The messenger looked to the side, balancing from one foot to another as if he were actually trying to figure out an answer to his rhetorical question.
“I’ll be down there in a moment,” he sighed, setting his book aside – and more regrettably, the brandy.
“Ah, Astarion,” the king said, waving him into the room when he got there.
Astarion blinked, surprised to see about a dozen men surrounding the king. “Your majesty?”
“We are moving forward with the plans sooner than I thought.”
“I… my lord?”
“The dragon’s moved down the mountain,” one of the king’s generals explained. “We think it might be aiming to attack, amassing more land or more wealth for its horde.”
“Shouldn’t we practice… caution?” Astarion asked.
“This has gone on long enough,” the king nearly shouted, slamming a fist onto the table in front of him. He looked around at the people in the room. Generals, soldiers, paladins. And somehow Astarion had made it into the room. “We must take action. I will not cower in my own kingdom any longer.”
Astarion could hardly pay attention to the meeting. They talked strategy while thoughts raced through Astarion’s head. They wanted to leave the next morning, first thing. When the shadows cleared, the dragon wouldn’t be the only beast to go to dust that day. What would the king make of the pile of ashes that used to be the heroic saviour of Baldur’s Gate he’d had so much faith in?
As soon as he was excused, he rushed back to his room knowing he only had one choice. He pulled his trunk out from the wardrobe and then piled in as much as he could, not caring about wrinkles or preserving space. He had to get out. And quick.
“And so the mouse begins to scurry, lest it be revealed as a rat.”
“Nine hells,” Astarion exclaimed, dropping the gold watch he’d been holding and clutching at his chest. “Why do you insist on being so creepy?”
“I hear the king’s preparing his men to move out tomorrow. And you’ll be at their side I presume? Proving yourself as the valiant hero you are?” He gestured to the trunk on Astarion’s bed. “Unless, you plan on leaving?”
“I have no choice,” he said, continuing his hunt for whatever items he could fit. Whatever could fetch him a few coins later on. He considered a silver music box and stuffed it between two shirts. “If I stay, I’ll just be turned to cinders.”
“Of course you have a choice,” Raphael said before taking a seat on an armchair gilded with gold. Admittedly, he painted quite the picture in his fine clothing amongst fine things. He looked like he fit in at court much more than Astarion did at least. “You always have a choice when you have a devil sitting on your shoulder.”
Slamming the trunk shut, Astarion turned to glare at him. Of course, Raphael was right. He did have a choice. Much as he wanted to act as if he didn’t. How much longer could he go on like this? Traveling in the night without a consistent place to call home. Jumping between taverns, watching the gold prize he’d won for helping to save the city slowly dwindle to nothing.
The loneliness. It was good at first, to be on his own. To make decisions for himself and not have to worry about anyone else. But then it had dawned on him while he’d been sitting by the fire in his room for the night. Remembering when he’d had plenty of company around a warm fire. The stories they’d share, the jokes they’d laugh at. Tav’s head resting on his shoulder when she grew tired. Now he was left with only the ghost of her touch.
Of course, he knew he could reach out to his other friends. They’d likely even be hospitable enough to let him stay. Even if it were impossible for him to get a job and provide with his condition.
But there was another way. A way for him to gain independence, a chance to rejoin civilization. To make his own way in the world without having to become a beggar to his friends. Without having to become common thief or scam unsuspecting families who’d grown to genuinely care about him. A way with admittedly loathsome consequences.
But Raphael was right in a way. Their last deal had got them both what they wanted.
“Fine,” he said and Raphael’s eyebrows flew up. “I’ll help you with your quest.”
Raphael clapped his hands together. “A wise choice, my friend.”
“But,” he interrupted, “I want the ring up front.”
There again. That flash of irritation. Astarion was beginning to appreciate the sight. The way Raphael’s lips twisted and his brows narrowed. His face looked pinched and somehow still handsome.
“That’s not possible.”
“Sure it is,” Astarion said, straightening up and trying to look the part of someone who held the upper hand. Time would tell how convincing it was. “The ring first and then on completion of whatever it is you’re requiring of me, I want you to make you filthy rich.”
“Oh do you?” Raphael practically snarled.
“Yes.”
“And pray tell, why would I do a thing like that?”
Astarion smirked. “Because you’re right. I did spare your life.” Raphael blinked, annoyance drifting away from his features and being replaced by something much more vulnerable. Surprise. He’d managed to throw the devil off. “I noticed you were dead, but I left you alone. I let you go. You’re alive, because of me. Therefore, according to any civilized society – even in the eyes of a devil, you owe me.”
Raphael nodded, taking this in as if it were very grave news before moving to Astarion’s drink cart to pour himself a glass of brandy. He did not offer one to Astarion. “A life debt? And am I supposed to take your word for it?”
“You thought it yourself,” Astarion pointed out.
“I suspected it,” Raphael amended. “Now I suspect that you may be jumping on the opportunity I mistakenly handed you.”
“I remember it,” Astarion said. “Your fingers twitched and then you lifted your head just a bit off the floor. You looked at me. But they were already going through the portal. I figured it was done. Believe me, if I’d known you’d come back, I wouldn’t have left you to live.”
“How charming,” Raphael deadpanned. “You’ve really given me something to consider.”
“Even devils honour their debts,” Astarion countered. “If only to ensure they don’t come back to bite them in the arse.”
Raphael was silent then, considering it. He took a long sip of his brandy, not quite meeting Astarion’s eyes. Then, “I can’t give you the ring first. ”
Placing his hands on his hips rather petulantly, Astarion hissed, “I saved your life.”
“Saved is a tad dramatic,” Raphael shot back. “But you did spare me. And you will receive my gratitude in the form of payment as soon as I am able to get to a counting house. However,” and he smiled as he said this. A twisted and cruel smile. “I’m afraid that the ring will act as much stronger motivation for you. I accept your terms, but you get the ring after. The money upfront.”
Astarion wanted to argue, but he knew his bargaining chip wasn’t as powerful as he was acting. Raphael could easily find someone else, but finding another way to protect himself from the sun would be quite the challenge indeed.
“Fine,” he bit out.
“Excellent!” Raphael exclaimed, “we’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
Leaving the king and his army to fight the dragon alone. He could see Tav’s disapproving glare as if she were standing there in front of him. Of course, it’s what he wanted to do. It would be the easier thing. But Tav had left a permanent mark on his heart, no point denying it. And he thought of her when he asked, “How long do you think it would take for the dragon’s shadows to clear? Once it’s vanquished that is. Will the sun be visible right away?”
Raphael frowned. “I imagine not. The shadows will linger, the land will need time to heal from the dragon’s darkness.”
“Then we’ll leave a bit later,” Astarion said, opening his trunk once again and pulling out a pair of trousers and a tunic. Before Raphael could protest, as he clearly wanted to do by the look on his face, Astarion added, “I have some unfinished business to attend to.”