[ Sometimes he fantasizes about that, too, when he's feeling particularly low. There's an appeal to making somebody who won't ever be able to leave him, couldn't possibly hurt him. But while a master can control a spawn physically, he still can't control their hearts (unbeating as they may be). He'd always know, somewhere deep down, that Iorveth didn't really love him, and it would make him go mad.
So: ] No. Well, not for long.
[ A vampire ascendant, maybe, but very soon not a spawn. He sucks gently at Iorveth's wrist, almost casual, like this is just as normal as post-coital cuddling. ]
If I fed you my own blood, then you'd be a true vampire. [ Teasing: ] Honestly, Iorveth, if you're going to be married to one, you really should brush up on the lore.
[ Slowly being drained, but happier for it. The fact that Iorveth isn't in any immediate danger makes it easier for him to let Astarion take as much as he can get away with, so he lists against Astarion's side, pliant and warm and pleased. ]
The lore, [ he snorts, but with no derision. ] Is there truly no way for you to become a true vampire, now that the unmentionable cretin is dead?
[ Not even going to speak Cazador's name into existence. Iorveth wonders if the unfinished ritual was truly Astarion's last chance, and if there's some other way for spawn to become vampires by virtue or... well, Iorveth doesn't know. Killing and biting another vampire lord, perhaps? Maybe they could have strung Alkam up and taken his blood; Damris had certainly wanted to.
Kissing Astarion's hair again, he appends: ] I wish to know about anything that may give you more freedom.
[ Which includes, yes, the lore. If Astarion isn't careful, Iorveth will start scheming again. ]
[ Astarion licks a few more times at the soft skin of Iorveth's wrist before he relinquishes it, fitting himself against Iorveth's body as best he can with this stupid leg in the way. Even worse than cockblocking, it's cuddleblocking him. ]
I don't know.
[ The lore isn't exactly his strong suit. He only knows the basics: you become a spawn, and then your master dangles the prospect of letting you drink his blood and become a true vampire in front of your face to torture you for two hundred years. Simple. ]
If there's a ritual to become a vampire ascendant, which, honestly, I'm not even certain is a real thing... [ It sounds fake!! How many fucking levels of vampire are there? ] ...then I'm sure there must be an alternative way to rise through the ranks from a spawn, as well.
[ With the power of devils on your side, it seems you can do just about anything. As long as you pay the price. ]
I guess I never gave it much thought, after— [ Giving up the ascendancy. He already sacrificed the greatest power he could ever have in the world; his lot in life was fairly cemented at that point. ]
[ How crazy would it have been, Iorveth thinks briefly, if Cazador did all that for dramatic reasons and the ritual didn't even work??? And how awful would it have been, if Astarion went ahead with the ritual in Cazador's stead, and it ended up in... who knows, him exploding or something equally as traumatizing? It's a good thing that they didn't consider ascendency－ no amount of power is worth the risk of Astarion losing any part of his current self.
With the feeding done, Iorveth takes his hand back to resume its very important job of petting Astarion's hair, slowly and carefully. ]
After I deterred you from world-changing power.
[ He finishes the sentence, since he's not in the habit of avoiding the truth, even if it doesn't paint him in the most flattering light. ]
You would be justified if you hated me for it, you realize.
[ If not for Iorveth, Astarion might be living in a mansion with 500 hot servants pouring wine over his naked body, or whatever it is that vampire ascendants do. He wouldn't be the Astarion that Iorveth loves now, but Astarion might have been happy regardless. ]
[ Ugh!! Another downside of these injuries: he can't both hold Iorveth's hand and pinch his cheek. Justified in hating Iorveth. Astarion could never be justified in hating him — and he could never hate him. Iorveth could betray him in every possible way, and there would still always be a part of him that longed for Iorveth's love. ]
The only reason to have that world-changing power is to protect you. [ Yes, he wants to be safe himself, but it's become less and less important. Not because he's somehow healed and found that the world is not an inherently dangerous place, but because he's simply shifted his neuroticism onto Iorveth's safety instead. ] The hag would have been a fine paste rubbed into that ugly carpet.
[ And it would have been glorious. If he had only ascended, he would have been able to save Iorveth, really save him, rather than just taking him and running. ]
...But I suppose seven thousand souls is quite a steep price to pay. [ He squeezes Iorveth's hand. ] And your disapproving scowl would have been too much to bear.
[ Iorveth simply just loves Astarion so fucking much. He holds Astarion sacred in a way that no sane person should, and is so concerned with Astarion's happiness to the point of parody: the only thing that scares Iorveth is the thought of anyone taking anything away from the man he loves.
Which is why he's floored by the assessment that Astarion wants to protect him. Iorveth has had lovers in the past, but he can't think of any that have said something like that out loud. It blindsides him (though it shouldn't, at this point), and makes him curl around Astarion, both reciprocally protective and also adoring. ]
Gods, you're perfect as you are.
[ Even if the cloak didn't protect Astarion from the sun, he would have been perfect anyway. He cups Astarion's face with one hand, keeping him in place to kiss all over his cheek, his forehead, his mouth. ]
Love of my life. I'd not change anything about you.
[ Iorveth doesn't need power or coin or prestige; he only wants Astarion, with all his complications and messiness. ]
[ Horrifically, Astarion actually giggles like a besotted schoolboy under the barrage of Iorveth's affection. Iorveth makes him feel— light. Unburdened. Like he really is young again, untouched and untainted. Like he's perfect the way he is. ]
I am particularly wonderful, [ he agrees. ] As are you. Hence why we make the perfect match.
[ There's only one thing he'd ever change about Iorveth, and it's that awful mortality. At least Iorveth isn't a human, or gods forbid, a halfling or gnome. He'd be beside himself if he thought he only had, what, fifty or sixty years before Iorveth's demise. No, he's lucky, really. Iorveth's elvenhood has never meant much to Astarion, but he's grateful for it. It gives him time. ]
...Besides, the whole 'turning you into a vampire' idea is really more of a plan B. I'd hate to bury you six feet under, darling, even for a day. And not only because you know I hate digging.
[ Although that's definitely part of it. Astarion's own death was one of the most traumatizing experiences of his existence. Forcing Iorveth to go through the same would be harrowing.
He'd do it, if he had to. But there are plenty of options to explore. ]
[ Iorveth doesn't care if he's laying it on thick; he kisses Astarion again, rewarding him for sweet behavior despite the horrific suggestion that the option of burying Iorveth underground for a day still exists. Deranged, Iorveth thinks that he'd endure it if it meant that Astarion wouldn't be lonely. ]
We'll do what we must.
[ He remembers Astarion saying that resurrection was as painful as it was terrifying, but those were different circumstances― Astarion was tortured by Cazador from the moment he was turned, but Iorveth knows what Astarion would never do the same to him, would never let him spend horrified hours scraping and digging his way out of dirt.
He squeezes Astarion's hand, enjoying that point of continued connection. ]
...I'd always thought it foolish, whenever I'd heard of humans trying to cheat death. Horror stories about lovers being brought back as mindless ghosts, and the like― I'd thought it a result of human hubris and pettiness.
[ He squeezes Astarion's hand again. ]
But now I imagine the absence of you― a complete absence, unyielding― and understand why others have been so compelled.
[ Astarion practically glows with happiness. Yes, that's exactly how he feels. An absence of Iorveth would be too terrible to bear. It seems very clear that the way his life has gone has been "no Iorveth = awful" and "yes Iorveth = pretty good"; an Iorveth is necessary for things to be all right. ]
Luckily for you, I've already cheated death.
[ Sure, that's discounting the fact that he very much can still die if (and when, probably) someone gets irritated enough with him to kill him, but at least that pesky old age won't get him. ]
Vampirism has its drawbacks, to be sure, but at least I'm not a hideous zombie like that Conway fellow.
[ He's referring to Connor, Mayrina's poor husband. ]
[ Most people have existential crises about eternal life and what it means to outlive everything until the end of eternity, but clearly, Astarion is not Most People. Iorveth would be more concerned about Astarion's short-sightedness if not for the simple fact that he's become complicit in encouraging aspects of it.
He has no idea who the hells Conway is, though. (Rude.) Oh well. Probably no one important. (Double rude.) ]
Yes, yes. [ A verbal eyeroll, affectionate. ] Not a hideous zombie, but the most beautiful vampire in Toril's history.
[ This would have sounded far more snide and sarcastic before; unfortunately for Iorveth, he actually believes this to be true now, so the jab doesn't quite land. More importantly, and on a bit more of a somber note, Iorveth hums under his breath and appends: ]
If my quest for eternal life goes awry, [ translation: 'If I become a hideous zombie', ] I expect you to kill me.
[ Astarion settles close, pulling the covers over their lower halves, head nestled in the crook of Iorveth's shoulder. He simply couldn't be happier; an orgasm, a fiancé, and the promise of Iorveth's quest for eternal life—
Wait, what did Iorveth just say about his quest for eternal life?
Astarion pulls back to get a good look at his face, as if he thinks he might find Iorveth winking and laughing, because surely he's joking. No one would ever say such a ridiculous thing in all seriousness. He raises an eyebrow, wary. ]
I can't imagine how your quest for eternal life could ever go wrong.
[ It's eternal life. He doesn't care if Iorveth is a hideous zombie!! ]
So we really don't have to make any sort of contingency plan.
[ Iorveth's mentioned Astarion's expressive brows before, but he really is enamored by them. Even when they're hiked up in judgment. He smooths over it with a brow, evaluative. ]
I can imagine a few ways in which it can go wrong, foolish cat.
[ Not a single thought in that pretty head (affectionate). An indication of how much anxiety Astarion houses under that polished exterior, perhaps; an aversion to adding more to that expansive pile. ]
If I become a creature incapable of thought or reason, for one. Or if I become someone else entirely after gaining immortality.
[ Worst-case scenarios. He pets Astarion's hair again. ]
I don't wish to be anything but the Iorveth you know.
[ Astarion whines, shifting uncomfortably where he's lying. Why would Iorveth ruin his afterglow with such unpleasant thoughts? He doesn't like this at all. Not at all!! ]
Are you mad? [ he finally says, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. Unfortunately, he already knows the answer is probably 'yes', so he doesn't leave Iorveth time to respond to that. Iorveth is insane, and most of the time, Astarion adores that about him, but not when he's asking him to, what, put Iorveth out of his potential future misery like a rabid dog? ]
[ Iorveth is capable of ruining so many good things. But he also thinks that a disclaimer like this is necessary if they're going to finagle a way to make him immortal, which is a task that everyone would have managed if it were safe or easy. Chances are that the process will be hard and possibly very ruinous, so he should be prepared for the worst.
Like, say, turning into a hideous zombie. He sighs when Astarion whines and cards his fingers gently through soft curls again, fully expecting the continued affection to placate Astarion somewhat. ]
Why not?
[ Still petting, still cuddled close. ] I doubt you'd want to be saddled with an unthinking creature who resembles nothing of me.
[ To the tune of "Astarion, you gotta love yourself more than this." ]
[ The continued affection does placate him... somewhat. Astarion can't help but lean into Iorveth's touch, an insuppressible bodily reaction. The desire to be cuddled outweighs all rational thought, unfortunately. Still: ]
—Because, [ is another petulant whine. He can't believe, actually, that Iorveth is asking 'why not'. Would Iorveth kill him if he were an ugly zombie?
Better not to think about such impossibilities. He'll never be ugly. ]
I would... find a way to fix you. [ After dragging around his decaying corpse, just like Mayrina did to Conway— er, Connor. ] It's as if you've never heard of the healing power of true love.
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So: ] No. Well, not for long.
[ A vampire ascendant, maybe, but very soon not a spawn. He sucks gently at Iorveth's wrist, almost casual, like this is just as normal as post-coital cuddling. ]
If I fed you my own blood, then you'd be a true vampire. [ Teasing: ] Honestly, Iorveth, if you're going to be married to one, you really should brush up on the lore.
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The lore, [ he snorts, but with no derision. ] Is there truly no way for you to become a true vampire, now that the unmentionable cretin is dead?
[ Not even going to speak Cazador's name into existence. Iorveth wonders if the unfinished ritual was truly Astarion's last chance, and if there's some other way for spawn to become vampires by virtue or... well, Iorveth doesn't know. Killing and biting another vampire lord, perhaps? Maybe they could have strung Alkam up and taken his blood; Damris had certainly wanted to.
Kissing Astarion's hair again, he appends: ] I wish to know about anything that may give you more freedom.
[ Which includes, yes, the lore. If Astarion isn't careful, Iorveth will start scheming again. ]
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I don't know.
[ The lore isn't exactly his strong suit. He only knows the basics: you become a spawn, and then your master dangles the prospect of letting you drink his blood and become a true vampire in front of your face to torture you for two hundred years. Simple. ]
If there's a ritual to become a vampire ascendant, which, honestly, I'm not even certain is a real thing... [ It sounds fake!! How many fucking levels of vampire are there? ] ...then I'm sure there must be an alternative way to rise through the ranks from a spawn, as well.
[ With the power of devils on your side, it seems you can do just about anything. As long as you pay the price. ]
I guess I never gave it much thought, after— [ Giving up the ascendancy. He already sacrificed the greatest power he could ever have in the world; his lot in life was fairly cemented at that point. ]
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With the feeding done, Iorveth takes his hand back to resume its very important job of petting Astarion's hair, slowly and carefully. ]
After I deterred you from world-changing power.
[ He finishes the sentence, since he's not in the habit of avoiding the truth, even if it doesn't paint him in the most flattering light. ]
You would be justified if you hated me for it, you realize.
[ If not for Iorveth, Astarion might be living in a mansion with 500 hot servants pouring wine over his naked body, or whatever it is that vampire ascendants do. He wouldn't be the Astarion that Iorveth loves now, but Astarion might have been happy regardless. ]
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The only reason to have that world-changing power is to protect you. [ Yes, he wants to be safe himself, but it's become less and less important. Not because he's somehow healed and found that the world is not an inherently dangerous place, but because he's simply shifted his neuroticism onto Iorveth's safety instead. ] The hag would have been a fine paste rubbed into that ugly carpet.
[ And it would have been glorious. If he had only ascended, he would have been able to save Iorveth, really save him, rather than just taking him and running. ]
...But I suppose seven thousand souls is quite a steep price to pay. [ He squeezes Iorveth's hand. ] And your disapproving scowl would have been too much to bear.
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Which is why he's floored by the assessment that Astarion wants to protect him. Iorveth has had lovers in the past, but he can't think of any that have said something like that out loud. It blindsides him (though it shouldn't, at this point), and makes him curl around Astarion, both reciprocally protective and also adoring. ]
Gods, you're perfect as you are.
[ Even if the cloak didn't protect Astarion from the sun, he would have been perfect anyway. He cups Astarion's face with one hand, keeping him in place to kiss all over his cheek, his forehead, his mouth. ]
Love of my life. I'd not change anything about you.
[ Iorveth doesn't need power or coin or prestige; he only wants Astarion, with all his complications and messiness. ]
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I am particularly wonderful, [ he agrees. ] As are you. Hence why we make the perfect match.
[ There's only one thing he'd ever change about Iorveth, and it's that awful mortality. At least Iorveth isn't a human, or gods forbid, a halfling or gnome. He'd be beside himself if he thought he only had, what, fifty or sixty years before Iorveth's demise. No, he's lucky, really. Iorveth's elvenhood has never meant much to Astarion, but he's grateful for it. It gives him time. ]
...Besides, the whole 'turning you into a vampire' idea is really more of a plan B. I'd hate to bury you six feet under, darling, even for a day. And not only because you know I hate digging.
[ Although that's definitely part of it. Astarion's own death was one of the most traumatizing experiences of his existence. Forcing Iorveth to go through the same would be harrowing.
He'd do it, if he had to. But there are plenty of options to explore. ]
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We'll do what we must.
[ He remembers Astarion saying that resurrection was as painful as it was terrifying, but those were different circumstances― Astarion was tortured by Cazador from the moment he was turned, but Iorveth knows what Astarion would never do the same to him, would never let him spend horrified hours scraping and digging his way out of dirt.
He squeezes Astarion's hand, enjoying that point of continued connection. ]
...I'd always thought it foolish, whenever I'd heard of humans trying to cheat death. Horror stories about lovers being brought back as mindless ghosts, and the like― I'd thought it a result of human hubris and pettiness.
[ He squeezes Astarion's hand again. ]
But now I imagine the absence of you― a complete absence, unyielding― and understand why others have been so compelled.
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Luckily for you, I've already cheated death.
[ Sure, that's discounting the fact that he very much can still die if (and when, probably) someone gets irritated enough with him to kill him, but at least that pesky old age won't get him. ]
Vampirism has its drawbacks, to be sure, but at least I'm not a hideous zombie like that Conway fellow.
[ He's referring to Connor, Mayrina's poor husband. ]
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He has no idea who the hells Conway is, though. (Rude.) Oh well. Probably no one important. (Double rude.) ]
Yes, yes. [ A verbal eyeroll, affectionate. ] Not a hideous zombie, but the most beautiful vampire in Toril's history.
[ This would have sounded far more snide and sarcastic before; unfortunately for Iorveth, he actually believes this to be true now, so the jab doesn't quite land. More importantly, and on a bit more of a somber note, Iorveth hums under his breath and appends: ]
If my quest for eternal life goes awry, [ translation: 'If I become a hideous zombie', ] I expect you to kill me.
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Wait, what did Iorveth just say about his quest for eternal life?
Astarion pulls back to get a good look at his face, as if he thinks he might find Iorveth winking and laughing, because surely he's joking. No one would ever say such a ridiculous thing in all seriousness. He raises an eyebrow, wary. ]
I can't imagine how your quest for eternal life could ever go wrong.
[ It's eternal life. He doesn't care if Iorveth is a hideous zombie!! ]
So we really don't have to make any sort of contingency plan.
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I can imagine a few ways in which it can go wrong, foolish cat.
[ Not a single thought in that pretty head (affectionate). An indication of how much anxiety Astarion houses under that polished exterior, perhaps; an aversion to adding more to that expansive pile. ]
If I become a creature incapable of thought or reason, for one. Or if I become someone else entirely after gaining immortality.
[ Worst-case scenarios. He pets Astarion's hair again. ]
I don't wish to be anything but the Iorveth you know.
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[ Astarion whines, shifting uncomfortably where he's lying. Why would Iorveth ruin his afterglow with such unpleasant thoughts? He doesn't like this at all. Not at all!! ]
Are you mad? [ he finally says, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. Unfortunately, he already knows the answer is probably 'yes', so he doesn't leave Iorveth time to respond to that. Iorveth is insane, and most of the time, Astarion adores that about him, but not when he's asking him to, what, put Iorveth out of his potential future misery like a rabid dog? ]
I'm not going to kill you.
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Like, say, turning into a hideous zombie. He sighs when Astarion whines and cards his fingers gently through soft curls again, fully expecting the continued affection to placate Astarion somewhat. ]
Why not?
[ Still petting, still cuddled close. ] I doubt you'd want to be saddled with an unthinking creature who resembles nothing of me.
[ To the tune of "Astarion, you gotta love yourself more than this." ]
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—Because, [ is another petulant whine. He can't believe, actually, that Iorveth is asking 'why not'. Would Iorveth kill him if he were an ugly zombie?
Better not to think about such impossibilities. He'll never be ugly. ]
I would... find a way to fix you. [ After dragging around his decaying corpse, just like Mayrina did to Conway— er, Connor. ] It's as if you've never heard of the healing power of true love.