Despite her love for the dress she wears, Delphie grapples with a pragmatic understanding that relying solely on her dexterity might not always suffice to evade or deflect attacks. The beautiful garment, a symbol of her grace, becomes a compromise in the face of the practical need for better protection. Following the delivery of Nere's head to the Myconid Colony, the party collectively decides to prioritize Delphie's safety by crafting a set of adamantine armor for her.
And so, they return to the Grymforge and a quick skirmish erupts with animated armor. Despite the challenge, they emerge victorious, and their exploration leads them to the discovery of a mold for scale mail and a cache of mithral ore, the essential material needed to forge the resilient adamantine armor.
Astarion and Delphie, despite their strained relationship, take on the role of scouts once again. They move ahead, leaving the rest of the party stationed on the precarious, crumbling staircase overlooking the deserted forge. The silence of the abandoned surroundings amplifies the unease between them.
The forge itself seems to have fallen into disuse, the once bustling activity replaced by an eerie stillness. The hot lava below emanates an uncomfortable heat, causing beads of sweat to form on their brows as they press forward through the desolate space.
"It's stupid for them to come down; there's literally nothing here," Delphie remarks to Astarion, her gaze shifting upward to where the rest of the party awaits on the deteriorating staircase.
"I agree. Let's just get this over with," Astarion responds tersely, the agreement carrying a tone of impatience.
The weight of the unresolved argument hangs heavily in the air as the wood elf sighs, the echoes of the previous day's confrontation still haunting the present moment. The rift between Delphie and Astarion lingers like a shadow, a palpable absence of communication that seems to permeate the silence around them.
Despite the passing of the night, neither of them found solace in sleep. The unspoken tensions and unaddressed emotions lingered, casting a restless pallor over the hours that should have been a respite.
Delphie shouts to their companions that she and Astarion can handle the task. The rest of the party offers nods of understanding, allowing the two to proceed alone.
As they stand by the forge, Delphie retrieves the ore from her backpack, handling it with care as she places it in the center compartment. Simultaneously, Astarion positions the mold in its designated place. The practicality of the task momentarily overshadows the emotional distance that separates them.
Seeking to alleviate the tension, Delphie attempts to break the silence. "What now? Do we just pull the lever?" she asks, her voice carrying a note of uncertainty.
"I would assume so," Astarion replies, walking over to the lever. With determined effort, he pulls it down with all his might, the creaking sound of machinery resonating through the forge. The atmosphere shifts as the lever is manipulated, the anticipation of the forging process adding a layer of suspense to their shared endeavor.
The deafening impact of the giant forge's hammer reverberates through the chamber as it strikes the center, initiating a sudden descent to a second level. Unaware of the imminent shift, Astarion and Delphie find themselves clinging to each other, their arms involuntarily seeking support in the midst of the unexpected motion. As the forge lands on the lower level, the abrupt jolt prompts the two elves to awkwardly pull apart.
The duo's attention shifts to the lava valve in front of them, a crucial component in the forging process. Delphie, quick to act, turns the valve with deftness, ensuring the lava is redirected away before it can reach her feet. Astarion, positioned near the lever, stands ready to initiate the hammer's descent once again. However, the moment is interrupted by the approach of heavy footfalls, disrupting the focused atmosphere of the forge.
"What was that?" Astarion questions, his hands instinctively leaving the lever as he reaches for his blades.
Suddenly, a formidable figure emerges from the lava chamber – a large adamantine golem, adorned in blue and silver. One of its arms boasts a mace, while the other features long, skeletal fingers. The golem moves with an ominous slowness through the lava.
"Maybe it's friendly?" Delphie suggests hesitantly, only to immediately regret her words as the golem swings a colossal mace in her direction. The realization dawns that the towering figure is far from amicable, and the companions find themselves thrust into a perilous encounter with the adamantine golem.
As the gravity of the situation unfolds below, the rest of the group watches restlessly from the unstable staircase above.
"Feather Fall? Flying? Anything?!" Shadowheart urgently queries, hovering over Gale and Wyll as they frantically rummage through their backpacks in search of any solution.
"Gods, we should've stocked up before we came down here," the wizard mutters under his breath, a tinge of frustration coloring his words. The realization of their unpreparedness hangs in the air, a weighty acknowledgment of the challenges they now face with limited resources.
"What about your scrolls?" Shadowheart suggests, hoping for a potential solution to the predicament.
"They're all in Delphie's pack!" Gale responds, growing more frustrated with the limitations of their current situation.
"You're the wizard, though!" Shadowheart retorts, the urgency and tension of the moment amplifying her irritation. The inability to access their resources amplifies the tension, leaving them with a sense of vulnerability as they strive to find a way to aid Astarion and Delphie in the perilous encounter with the adamantine golem below.
"Settle down. They'll be fine. They're both survivors," Halsin attempts to soothe the restive group, offering a note of reassurance amidst the growing stress.
"I hope you're right, soldier. It appears like nothing's busting through that thing's armor," Karlach observes, her tone reflecting a mix of concern and skepticism.
"Chk. They are imbeciles for advancing without our assistance," Lae'zel adds, her expression a mix of disgust and a subtle undercurrent of worry.
"That's not an excuse for their lives to be endangered!" Wyll remarks, frustration evident as he searches through his bag for a second time, desperate to find any resource that might aid in the impending battle.
The battle rages on in the fiery depths of the Grymforge, with Delphie and Astarion facing the formidable adamantine golem. Delphie channels her magical prowess, unleashing powerful spells in a relentless barrage, yet each strike seems to have minimal effect on the resilient golem.
Astarion, armed with his bow, attempts to pierce the golem's armor with a well-aimed arrow. However, the projectile merely pings off the adamantine exterior, leaving the golem seemingly unaffected. Undeterred, the golem pivots towards Astarion, disregarding Delphie as if she were invisible.
In the midst of the intense battle with the adamantine golem, a spark of insight flickers in Delphie's mind. She recalls the unique properties of adamantine, particularly its vulnerability to extreme heat such as that found in lava. A plan forms, and she quickly deduces that the golem may be susceptible to bludgeoning attacks. With this revelation, Delphie hatches a daring idea to exploit this potential weakness.
As the golem's massive mace is raised threateningly toward Astarion, Delphie seizes the moment. She shoots an arrow at the mace, observing it ping off harmlessly. The golem, now turning its attention toward Delphie, begins to approach her with unwavering determination.
Thinking on her feet, the wood elf employs her agility, nimbly leaping from platform to platform to make her way toward the center where the hammer strikes. She glances over at Astarion, who is positioned near the lever, and calls out to him urgently.
"Astarion!" she shouts, her voice cutting through the chaos of the battle, as she prepares to execute her plan to exploit the golem's potential vulnerability to bludgeoning attacks.
In the midst of the escalating threat posed by the adamantine golem, Delphie locks eyes with the vampire spawn, urgency and determination reflecting in her gaze. As the golem inches closer, Delphie raises her voice.
"I need you to trust me. We don't have much time. When I give you the word, pull the lever," Delphie implores, her words laced with urgency and a desperate sincerity. Though the echoes of their recent disagreement linger, Astarion meets her pleading eyes with a flicker of concern. "Astarion, please. There's only one way we're gonna be able to survive this. I need you to trust me," she implores, the gravity of the situation demanding a truce between them for the sake of their collective survival. After a moment of internal conflict, Astarion reluctantly nods, acknowledging the necessity of unity in the face of the imminent threat.
"NOW!" Delphie's urgent cry pierces through the chaos, prompting Astarion to close his eyes and act on her command. He pulls the lever with a decisive motion, the resounding sound reverberating through the forge. The entire structure shakes as the hammer strikes, creating a tumultuous disturbance in the heated atmosphere.
As the smoke and debris clear, the formidable golem falls from its elevated position, landing atop Delphie. Astarion's eyes widen in horror at the sight. The once tense air is now filled with an unsettling silence, broken only by the tension of the moment.
Astarion's mind races with a torrent of emotions as he rushes toward the fallen wood elf beneath the defeated golem. Panic and guilt intertwine with a surge of regret, the echoes of their recent argument reverberating in his conscience. In the abrupt silence that follows the tumultuous clash, he grapples with a haunting fear that their daring plan might have cost Delphie dearly.
The weight of responsibility bears down on him, accentuated by the realization that he pulled the lever, an action that contributed to the current perilous situation. The vampire spawns's unbeating heart pounds with a mixture of dread and the undeniable concern he feels for his fellow companion. As he approaches the debris, the turmoil within him intensifies, each step laden with an internal struggle between his self-preserving instincts and the budding realization of a genuine connection he might have jeopardized.
Driven by a surge of desperate urgency, Astarion locates Delphie's still body amidst the debris and ash. Despite being marred by bruises and covered in the remnants of the tumultuous clash, Delphie's inherent beauty perseveres, a testament to her resilience even in the face of adversity.
With a tender touch, Astarion carefully drags her limp form away from the wreckage, cradling her in his arms. He places her head gently on his lap, the vulnerability of the usually composed vampire spawn rendering the scene heartbreakingly poignant. Astarion's eyes well up with unspoken emotions as he gazes down at Delphie's unconscious form.
"Gods, Delphie. Please wake up," he implores with a mixture of despair and fervent hope, the weight of their shared history and the recent rift between them adding an additional layer of complexity to his plea. In the quiet aftermath of the battle, Astarion finds himself grappling with a vulnerability he rarely reveals, as he awaits any sign of life from the wood elf he now cradles in his arms.
As the events unfold below, the rest of the party watches in collective shock and dismay from the precarious vantage point above. The gravity of the situation weighs heavily on each member, and their reactions mirror a spectrum of emotions.
Shadowheart, overtaken by disbelief and horror, covers her mouth as her knees buckle. Gale rushes to her side, offering support to prevent her from collapsing under the weight of the distressing scene. Lae'zel and Halsin bow their heads, a shared gesture of mourning and respect.
Wyll, unable to contain his frustration and anger, curses under his breath, venting his emotions through an impulsive kick to his backpack. The resounding thud echoes the collective frustration of the group. Karlach, mirroring Shadowheart's reaction, tears up in response to the unexpected turn of events, a mixture of sorrow and shock etched across her features.
A palpable sense of relief washes over Astarion as a faint groan emanates from Delphie's still body. The tension that had gripped him loosens its hold as he witnesses the wood elf beginning to stir. In a heart-stopping moment, the fragile promise of consciousness returns. Astarion drops his head in profound relief, his features softened by a mix of gratitude and lingering concern. Delphie, still weak and bruised, manages a feeble chuckle.
The collective sigh of relief reverberates through the group perched above the forge as Delphie stirs back to consciousness, bringing an end to the heart-stopping tension. Shadowheart, wiping away her tears, manages a smirk amidst the emotional rollercoaster.
"Looks like they need a moment. Best if we wait at the top," Shadowheart suggests, her tone carrying a hint of understanding for the delicate nature of the situation. The party, unanimous in their agreement, follows her lead, ascending the stairs.
"You trusted me," Delphie utters with a soft smile, gratitude shining in her eyes as she begins to sit up.
"Yes, and it was a relatively stupid thing to do because you almost—" Astarion starts, his words laced with a mix of concern and frustration. Despite his words, he braces her gently, preventing her from falling. In that moment, as he gazes at her, a complex array of emotions plays out on his features.
Without a word, Delphie closes the small gap between them, her hands reaching for his face. Astarion, caught off guard, succumbs to the touch, a mixture of vulnerability and longing in his eyes.
Astarion, genuinely confused, looks at Delphie as she offers an apology.
"For what?" he queries, perplexed by the unexpected turn of events. After all, he was the one who had been in the wrong during their recent argument.
"You're right. It's not fair that you spent two hundred years as a slave. It's not fair that nobody came to save you, and I'm so sorry you had to endure that pain and torment for so long. Nobody deserves that," Delphie expresses, her eyes reflecting a depth of sympathy and compassion.
Astarion takes a breath, his eyes fixed on Delphie as she continues to speak.
"I know it's hard for you. I've seen it, and I've been there. Maybe not as long as you have, but I have. You're not alone in this. You don't have to be. We're all here for you. I'm here for you," Delphie reassures, her words carrying the weight of genuine understanding and empathy.
"You may not believe it, Astarion, but you're a good person. Deep down, you are," she asserts, her gaze penetrating through the layers of the pale elf's defenses. In her words, there's an earnest attempt to bridge the gap, to reach the core of Astarion's complex identity and acknowledge the goodness that resides within.
"I—"
"No. This time, you're gonna listen to me," Delphie interrupts, asserting control over the conversation and turning the tides from their previous argument. Astarion obediently remains silent, his crimson eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity.
"That night I found you in the forest sucking that boar dry of blood... you could've done the same to me, but you didn't. You even brought me back to my tent and tended to my wrist. You truly listen when I confide in you. When I had that nightmare a few nights ago, you stayed with me long after I fell asleep. On top of everything, Astarion, even though I didn't notice it at the time, you protected me and Shadowheart after you told us you weren't going to help us in battle," Delphie recounts, her words unraveling a tapestry of moments that challenge the narrow perception Astarion holds of himself.
"I just—" Astarion starts, but the words remain elusive, frustrating him. However, Delphie, attuned to the unspoken struggles beneath his typically composed exterior, understands. She gazes into his eyes, a silent reassurance that transcends the need for words.
"Astarion, stop hiding behind a mask. If you trust me, let me in. I want to help," Delphie urges, her words a gentle invitation to share the burdens he has carried in silence for weeks.
After a prolonged struggle, the words finally break free from Astarion's lips, each syllable bearing the weight of vulnerability. "I'm scared, Delphie," he admits, his voice barely audible. In this moment of raw honesty, Astarion lays bare the fears that have long lingered beneath the surface, exposing a side of himself he rarely lets others witness.
"I know, and I'm here," Delphie reassures, her voice a soothing presence as she holds their foreheads together. "I'm not going anywhere. Even though you can be an ass at times—"
"—When did you start talking so much?" Astarion interrupts, playfully pulling her in, their faces close. In a brief moment of hesitation, he ensures she is comfortable with the intimacy that follows. A nod from Delphie gives him the reassurance he needs, and he leans in, closing the gap to share a tender kiss.
The kiss unfolds with a gentle echo of the first moment they shared in the forest outside the Rosymorn Monastery. Its essence is gentle, void of the initial flames of lust and passion and it carries a quiet cadence. In this tender exchange, they grasp the nuanced emotions that breathe life into the kiss. Devoid of heightened desire yet enriched with a profound sense of unspoken endearment, the kiss encapsulates the evolving nature of their connection over the month they've spent traveling together.
"Maybe you're rubbing off on me," Delphie says with a small giggle as they pull apart.
The next night, Delphie finds herself standing in front of the table mirror that Astarion keeps outside of his tent. As she gazes at her reflection, she notices the transformation that time has wrought on her appearance. Her once shoulder-length hair now cascades halfway down her back, half of it elegantly woven into a waterfall braid, with loose curls trailing behind. It's a reminder, amid the chaos of their journey, of how quickly her hair grows.
Delphie's attention then shifts to the adamantine armor she wears, dyed in vibrant shades of green and gold. The bottom part resembles basic scale mail, while the top takes on the appearance of a long-sleeved tunic. Astarion, in a thoughtful gesture, incorporated part of her beloved original outfit into the new ensemble, attaching part of her old dress to the bottom of the tunic.
"Hey, do you have a moment?" Astarion's voice startles her, prompting a jump, but she swiftly composes herself, wearing a smile in his presence.
"Of course," Delphie replies, keenly observing a subtle undercurrent of nervousness in his voice. "Is everything okay?" Her concern shines through, inviting Astarion to share whatever might be on his mind in this moment of vulnerability.
"Oh, yes! I'm fine. I just feel...awful," Astarion confesses, his admission carrying a weight of discomfort.
Delphie cocks her head in confusion. "About what? Our fight?" With a soft chuckle, she reaches for his hands, her touch a gentle reassurance. "Astarion, that's behind us now. Don't worry about it." Her reassuring smile is met by his own, but it fades, hinting at deeper concerns lingering beneath the surface.
"I wasn't lying when I told you I was using you for protection," Astarion admits, his gaze locking onto hers with intensity. "Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan - seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you wouldn't turn on me." A fake smile accompanies his words. "It was easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And for the most part, you did." The mask of deception softens from his face. "All I had to do was not fall for you... which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart."
Delphie responds with a tender smile, her understanding evident. "You... you're incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real." She gently caresses his cheek. "Being close to someone—any kind of intimacy—was something I performed to lure people back for him. The first night I bit you, and I saw what happened to you in your vision... I truly felt like I found someone who had some semblance of understanding. But I also don't know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I'd like to."
"Hey. You're talking to someone who spent half of her life in the wild. I don't know anything either, but I think we can figure it out together," Astarion hears Delphie's reassuring words, and a genuine smile finds its way to his face in response. Feeling a sense of vulnerability, he allows himself to be present in the moment.
Delphie pulls her hand away and with a deliberate slowness, she encircles him with her arms. At first, his body reacts with a reflexive freeze, a residual instinct from years of self-preservation. The tension in his frame is evident. However, as seconds pass, a subtle transformation occurs. The stiffness in his posture yields to a gradual relaxation as he eases into the warmth of her touch.
Her smile grows, mirroring the connection and understanding that permeate the embrace. Astarion, reciprocating the gesture, wraps his arms around her, finding a moment of solace in the shared vulnerability. He rests his head against hers, a silent acknowledgment of the comfort found in this unexpected connection. Eventually, Delphie gently pulls away.
"You... you are just full of surprises, aren't you?" Astarion leans into Delphie with an exhilarated expression. "Honestly, I have no idea what we're doing. Or what comes next." He straightens his back and extends his hand toward her. Delphie, without hesitation, takes his hand, and he covers hers with his other hand. "But I do know this... this is nice."
Delphie reciprocates the sentiment by wrapping her arms around him once again. In the stillness of the night, they stand together, finding solace in each other's embrace. The world beyond the Underdark fades away as they hold onto the moment, a brief respite before the challenges that await them in the Shadow-Cursed Lands at the break of dawn. The quiet intimacy between them becomes a testament to the unpredictable and evolving nature of their connection, a journey into the unknown that they embark on together.