The next day, a new and ominous quest is bestowed upon the party. The sovereign commands them to bring back the severed head of a drow named Nere. Despite the grisly nature of the task, Delphie readily accepts the challenge, her newfound sense of compassion extending to every single poor soul she encounters.
As the party embarks on their journey across the dark lake towards the Grymforge ruins, the atmosphere is tense with an unspoken understanding of the gravity of their mission. The initial leg of the expedition unfolds relatively uneventfully, marked only by Delphie's mischievous act of pushing a suspecting duergar into the water, triggering a sudden skirmish between the two skiffs, threatening to disrupt the tranquility of the journey.
In the midst of chaos, Delphie and Gale combine their magical prowess to navigate the perilous situation. With a blend of skillful coordination and potent spells, they manage to flip over the hostile duergars' skiff, turning the tables in their favor. Astarion observes this mischievous side of the wood elf with a sense of pride.
Upon reaching their destination, the party is greeted by the eerie and unsettling atmosphere of the abandoned Sharran outpost. The Grymforge ruins stand before them, a testament to the remnants of a dark and mysterious past. A haunting quietness envelops the air, an otherworldly stillness so dense that even the sporadic echoes of the duergar barking orders at their deep gnome slaves cut through it like muted thunder.
As the party docks the skiff, the air is charged with a palpable tension that extends beyond the eerie stillness of the Grymforge ruins. A few members of the Absolute emerge to greet the newcomers. Thankfully, the party deftly maneuvers through the delicate dance of diplomacy, skillfully sidestepping an immediate confrontation.
Astarion's mischievous demeanor hangs in the air as they advance, delivered with a smirk that implies a nonchalant approach to a grave decision. "So are we saving this Nere from suffocating or leaving him to die?" he asks, a playful glint in his eye. "I'm fine with either, naturally. The last thing I want to do is ruin these nails digging through rock." He nonchalantly displays his nails, as if confirming their pristine condition.
In response, Delphie assumes a stance of determination, crossing her arms over her chest. "We promised the sovereign we'd bring his head back and Thulla we'd save the gnomes," she declares with unwavering resolve.
"Who's Thulla?" he provocatively inquires, eliciting a glare from the wood elf in front of him. "Oh, the gnome," he adds casually with a dismissive wave as if proposing to cast them aside. "Let's not trouble ourselves over them, darling. They aren't worth the effort," he suggests, his indifference to Thulla and the gnomes underscored by the term of endearment.
A disdainful scoff escapes Delphie's lips as she rebuts Astarion's indifferent stance. "Aren't worth it?" she retorts incredulously. "They're slaves, Astarion. Held here against their own will. You, of all people, should know how that feels."
In a sudden and intense gesture, Astarion seizes Delphie's arms, locking eyes with her in a moment of raw confrontation.
"You're right," he concedes, his voice dropping to a low, toxic tone. "I do know how it feels. You want to know what else?" Astarion's eyes bore into Delphie's, carrying the weight of centuries. "I've been a slave for two. Hundred. Years. Where the fuck were people like you when I was suffering?!" His words resonate with the bitterness of an old wound as he lets go of her arm. "When I was tortured to the brink of death and brought back to life, only to relive it over and over and over again. How are these gnomes more important than me, Delphie?!" The intensity of his gaze and the pain in his voice reveal the deep-seated resentment and anguish that linger within Astarion's tortured past.
"Astarion, calm down," Delphie implores, placing a gentle hand on his arm in an attempt to diffuse the escalating tension.
However, Astarion reacts with defiance, pulling his arm away sharply. "Don't tell me to calm down, Delphie. No. You are going to listen to me," he asserts, the frustration and pain evident in his voice. "Haven't I suffered enough?"
Delphie meets his intense gaze with a poignant look, her eyes reflecting sadness and a shared understanding of the pain they both carry. "Astarion," she begins, a plea lingering in her voice.
"You say you care about me?!" Astarion interjects, frustration lacing his words.
"NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU!" Delphie screams in response, the scales on her forehead glowing ominously. In a surge of unrestrained emotion, a wave of psychic energy emanates from her, shattering the boulders that had entrapped Nere. Yet, in the heat of the moment, neither of them acknowledges the potent power she has just unleashed.
"I know not everything is about me, but stop trying to change me. I am who I am. You need to accept that," Astarion spits out bitterly, the words carrying the weight of unspoken resentment and a plea for acceptance.
"If you want me to accept you for who you are, stop being a hypocrite and do the same for me," Delphie's voice softens, the plea for understanding evident in her words.
"I never asked for any of this, Delphie," Astarion retorts, his tone carrying a mix of frustration and resignation.
"Neither did I, but the tadpole has made me realize I'm part of the problem in this world. I can help others, so innocent people don't have to suffer like I did," she explains, making a final attempt to bridge the gap between them.
Astarion remains silent for a moment, the weight of their conflicting perspectives hanging in the air. "You want to play the hero, fine. Don't expect me to help," he finally concedes, his tone reflecting a reluctance to align with Delphie's newfound sense of purpose.
In the grim battleground of Grymforge, the clash between the party and Nere, along with the other members of the Absolute, unfolds with chaotic intensity. True to his earlier declaration, Astarion lurks in the shadows, a silent spectator to the unfolding skirmish as his companions engage in a fierce struggle against their adversaries.
Amidst the tumult, a sudden turn of events disrupts the battlefield dynamics. The malevolent drow, weaves his dark magic, ensnaring Delphie's mind under his control. Astarion's eyes narrow as he observes, a silent witness to the unfolding tragedy.
Delphie, wearing a blank expression, approaches Shadowheart with an eerie calmness. "Vesper-" she begins, the command hanging in the air, poised to unleash her snake companion upon the party.
Reacting swiftly, Astarion, notching an arrow with practiced precision, aims at Nere's head. The arrow speeds through the air, finding its mark with deadly accuracy. The drow crumples to the ground with the spell broken, and Delphie is liberated from his insidious control.
The aftermath of the battle leaves a tense atmosphere hanging over the group. Delphie, wearing a fake smile, takes charge of giving directions to the gnomes on how to find their way back to Thulla. As she moves past Astarion, she abruptly halts, her expression betraying the veneer of composure.
"I don't know what I expected from someone like you, but the last thing I expected was for you to retreat to the shadows because you didn't want to save gnomes," she asserts, her disappointment palpable.
Without meeting Astarion's gaze, Delphie begins to move away, only to have her arm seized by Astarion. His actions force her to look at him as he retorts, "You were being mind-controlled at one point. I'm the reason you didn't kill Shadowheart, so don't stand there and accuse me of not helping." Silence envelops the tense moment as Astarion releases his grip on Delphie's arm. The unspoken rift between them deepens, and tears well up in Delphie's eyes as she turns her gaze away from him.
"If you can't accept me as I am, then leave me be," Astarion declares, his words carrying a weight of resignation and pain.
"I wasn't trying to change you, you know," Delphie responds, her voice barely audible, a whisper caught in the heavy air. "I know there's good in you. I see it, but you're so fucking stubborn."
Astarion's frustration boils to the surface. "How many times do I have to tell you, Delphie?! I'm a monster! Baldurian parents scare their children with stories about my kind. I'm not like you!" His words echo with the harsh self-perception that haunts him, revealing the deep-seated wounds that have shaped his identity.
"You don't see it because you don't want to see it, Astarion. You have been brainwashed into thinking you are this evil being without a heart-" Delphie attempts to express her perspective, but her words are cut off by Astarion's interruption.
"I don't have a heart. There's nothing beating in my chest," he states, his tone carrying a bitter conviction.
"You care, Astarion. If you didn't-" Delphie tries to continue, but Astarion cuts her off once more.
"I don't care, darling. That's what you're not realizing," he asserts with a cold detachment. "I could care less about any of you. You are all a means of protection for me. I'm only here because I don't want to be turned into a damned squid!"
The harsh admission hangs in the air, a stark declaration of Astarion's self-preserving motivations and the emotional barriers he has erected.
"You don't mean that," Delphie says with a glimmer of hope, her voice carrying a vulnerability that seeks affirmation. Astarion, however, remains silent, his composed exterior masking the internal turmoil and fractured emotions. "Fuck you," she eventually declares, the hurt and frustration palpable in her words. In an abrupt turn, she runs toward Shadowheart, embracing her in a heartfelt hug. The rest of the party, their gazes filled with a mix of disappointment and anger, begins to walk away, leaving Astarion alone in the wake of the emotional upheaval.
In the aftermath of the confrontation, Astarion finds himself swallowed by a brooding silence, his internal turmoil manifesting in silent curses and self-directed beratement. The weight of the rift between him and Delphie bears down on him, an invisible burden that leaves him grappling with the consequences of his own actions.
As he stands alone, the quiet curses slip from his lips like shadows in the dimming light. Each word is a whispered acknowledgment of the fractures he has caused within the group, a muted expression of frustration and regret. The air around him seems to carry the weight of unspoken words, thick with the tension of a connection strained to its limits.
The internal struggle is etched on his face, a canvas revealing the conflicting emotions that churn beneath the surface. The distance between him and Delphie, once an unspoken understanding, now stands as a tangible void.
In the silent self-flagellation, Astarion is left to confront the repercussions of his choices, the echoes of his own curses lingering in the air as he grapples with the reality of a fractured bond and the uncertain path that lies ahead.