Chapter Text
The world narrowed to a gaping maw. Below, a bottomless pit, a swirling vortex of inky darkness, pulsed with an unholy hunger. It was a maw not of rock or bone, but of shadow and despair, a pit of oblivion that threatened to swallow him whole. A primal scream tore from his throat, raw and desperate, yet he barely registered it as his own. Fear, so profound it numbed his senses, had him paralyzed. He was a fly caught in the web of a monstrous spider by the name, Mephistopheles.
A sudden yank, as if ripped from a nightmare, jolted him. The word "Renascentia", echoed in his mind, a beacon in the void.
Then the world flickered back into existence, the darkness replaced by a vast, dimly lit crypt. He found himself kneeling on cold stone, the echo of a primal scream still raw in his throat. Fear, a suffocating cloak, slowly loosened its grip, replaced by a daze of confusion. His memories were fractured, fragmented images dancing just out of reach.
Recognition dawned on Raphael as his gaze met his "savior's" face. It wasn't a benevolent hand that had pulled him back, but the very fangs of Astarion, the vampire who'd orchestrated his predicament along with his ragtag band of misfits.
A guttural growl erupted from his throat, words laced with venom. "You!" he roared, a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. Moments ago, oblivion had stared him down in the form of the arch devil Mephistopheles, all thanks to Astarion's machinations during the existence of the elder brain.
"Yes. Me-" Astarion declared.
But before Astarion could say anything else, Raphael unleashed a bellow, "Ignis!"
A tense silence followed, broken only by the echo of his fading yell. Nothing.
What? Why?
“What happened to poetry, rhymes and a good deal? You know this game better than anyone, devil”, Astarion jested.
"Ignis!" The word fell flat again, no flicker of flame responding to his call.
A silence spell couldn’t have nullified his attack. After all, he could hear himself speaking.
Raphael, consumed by rage, began to launch a relentless assault on Astarion. Spells sputtered, strikes found no purchase, and even his desperate attempt to transform into his infernal visage met only with an infuriating void.
Unable to land a hit on Astarion, he stood heaving, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The emptiness gnawed at him, whispering a horrifying truth he would rather not consider… An infernal contract was at play.
Astarion's lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Are you ready to talk now? Of course, you’re entirely welcome to do otherwise- throw a few more tantrums, walk out my palace doors, see if anything changes.” Astarion’s words, dripping with mockery and laced with a challenge were straightforward enough. Raphael *didnt* have a choice. It wasn't just a logical understanding. A cold dread seeped into him. It felt as though the infernal fire that once coursed through his veins had dwindled to embers. His magic, felt muted, sluggish. His devilish constitution was somehow under chains.
What did the insolent vampire do to him? Once this was dealt with, Raphael would flay Astarion and hang his pathetic corpse from the ceiling.
Taking Raphael's silence as an invitation, Astarion continued, “The Crown of Karsus is now in the hands of the wizard, Gale. I need to counter its magic by finding The Sceptre of Karsus-”
The Sceptre of Karsus? “HAH-“ Astarion's insufferably pompous words hit Raphael, a surge of defiance replacing his exhaustion. “The Sceptre of Karsus- *Yes*, I’m familiar with it! It was a powerful artifact possessed by a few, and desired by many-“ Raphael gave a theatrical pause as if searching for an appropriate word, ”*ambitious and arrogant fools...* It’s no wonder you seek it too.”
Hoping to get under Astarion’s skin, Raphael was disappointed when he heard a chuckle.
“Is any pursuit truly worth it if even common men can perceive its value?”
Raphael went silent again.
Astarion continued, “I knew a bigger fool who chased the enigma of Karsus's artifacts – not for mere decades, but centuries, so that he could ‘command the hells’. But can he really achieve that if his infernal powers aren’t his to command?”
“And whose fault would that be?” Raphael hissed through gritted teeth.
“Let me make this clear- the only reason you’re no longer at death’s door is because I bargained with Mephistopheles. And let me tell you this-“ Astarion leaned towards Raphael, ”he sold you cheap. Mephistopheles didn’t even think you were a threat anymore.“ Astarion studied Raphael’s expression as he spoke those words and then pressed on, ”The artifacts of Karsus may no longer be part of the conversation but what I am offering you, devil, is another chance. Either as an enemy or an ally. And in this foreign playground, I could use an ally. But you need me. So what’s better than the devil you dont know?” Astarion waited for a response.
Raphael knew that Astarion intentionally appealed to his desires yet, he couldn’t deny that in these sugary negotiations was a sliver of truth- Raphael didn’t know what he was up against or exactly how his powers were contained. It was due to a contract, that much he deduced. After all he was a devil whose bread and butter was infernal contracts. But the details eluded him. Accustomed to wielding the power in contracts, Raphael found himself on the other side of the table this time. Astarion held the reins, and Raphael wouldn't be free until he understood the vampire's terms. And to do so, staying close to Astarion would be his best bet, regardless of how distasteful he found it. While being allies was farfetched, Raphael could play along with Astarion for a while until he reclaimed his freedom.
“What’s better than the devil you dont know, is the devil you do.” Raphael answered.
“We have an understanding then. Once the Sceptre of Karsus is in my hands-“ Astarion smiled and continued, ”you will be free. Your infernal powers will return. But until then, you will be the new chamberlain of my palace.”
And it would be those words which would make a devil feel like he wasn’t already intimate with the shapes hell could take.
