The following night arrives with unexpected haste, yet the tender dance shared between Astarion and Delphie lingers vividly in their memories. It transcended mere lust or passion, rooted instead in the unspoken love that binds them together. Their closeness became a necessity, particularly in the face of the impending peril awaiting them. Each moment spent together felt flawless and untainted, a testament to the genuine connection they shared. In those moments, there was no sense of dissociation, no feeling of being lost. They were completely enthralled by each other.
Now, as they stand ready for the imminent peril ahead, they gather near the meticulously crafted teleportation circle. Earlier that morning, Bellamy, donned in her elven guise, ventured out in search of suitable attire for them.
Astarion dons a black collared vest adorned with intricate, darker swirls, complemented by silver buttons. Over this, he wears a red tailcoat featuring matching swirls around the collar. Wyll mirrors his style in a similar all-black ensemble.
In contrast, Shadowheart radiates elegance in a deep purple and black ombre dress. The godet skirt and floating sleeves create a graceful silhouette, while white-outlined magenta leaves adorn her hips against a backdrop of yellow fabric. The sides are adorned with black lace, and indigo crystals form a captivating swirl pattern on the sleeves and collar. A deep purple choker and golden strapped heels complete the ensemble. Her long platinum hair cascades down her back like a waterfall, the sides pinned back into a braided crown, adorned with two night orchids.
However, none are prepared for Delphie's stunning appearance. The wood elf's inherent beauty is accentuated by the way her long brown curls are elegantly pulled up into a high ponytail, with her lengthy bangs gracefully framing her face. Astarion's undead heart stirs as if beating again, a sentiment shared by Wyll, though his focus remains captivated by her beauty, seemingly unfazed—perhaps due to their dance the previous night.
Delphie graces the scene in a breathtaking blush-colored gown. The dress is adorned with glittery tulle, rose gold embellishments, and faux flowers, extending from the off-the-shoulder neckline down to the skirt's beginning. Falling just below her ankles, her calloused bare feet peek out subtly. In this ensemble, she embodies the princess she was destined to be.
A mischievous smile graces Astarion's lips as he confidently approaches Delphie. "No shoes?"
"I can barely waltz, dretri. You want me to attempt that in heels?" Delphie retorts with an amused smirk.
In a moment of unabashed pride, Astarion feels the need to assert what's his. His gaze flickers to Wyll before he smoothly wraps an arm around Delphie's waist, sealing the playful banter with a gentle kiss on her lips.
Observing the exchange, Shadowheart wears a soft smile. Her growing fondness for the rogue is evident, and she now believes that, despite his rivalry with Wyll over their leader, Astarion genuinely loves Delphie. Witnessing the happiness he brings the wood elf fills her with an unexpected sense of joy.
On the other hand, Wyll rolls his eye, fully aware that Astarion's actions were intended to evoke jealousy from him.
The intimate moment between the two elves is abruptly interrupted by the sound of a throat being cleared. They turn to find Alden and Gale patiently waiting nearby. Delphie's cheeks flush with embarrassment, resembling a teenager caught by her parents in the act of making out with her boyfriend. Astarion, on the other hand, appears unfazed, sporting a rather pleased smile on his lips.
"Is everyone ready?" Gale asks awkwardly, rubbing his hands together.
The quartet nods in unison, their expressions now serious. Gale proceeds to cast the cloaking spell, and the transformation unfolds before them. Delphie morphs into an eladrin, her skin taking on the hue of pale spring leaves. Dark green replaces her hair color, and her emerald eyes lighten. A snub nose replaces the small button nose, and her diamond jawline softens.
Astarion undergoes a complete transformation into a half-orc. He shoots a glare at Gale, who smirks back. The vampire spawn's fangs shift to his bottom teeth, elongating and protruding outward. His skin turns green, several shades darker than Delphie's, and his white curls turn a deep black.
Wyll's ears lengthen into points, and his face thins out while maintaining a strong jawline. Conversely, Shadowheart experiences a complete reversal. Her small pointed ears disappear, and her hair and eyes transform to brown. Though their changes are not as dramatic as those of the elves, the group becomes entirely unrecognizable to those familiar with their usual appearances.
With an uneasy sigh and a subtle scowl directed at Gale, Astarion takes the lead, stepping into the portal, followed closely by Esme, Shadowheart, and Wyll. Just as Delphie is about to follow suit, Alden gently pulls her aside.
"Delphnye," the disguised ancient dragon begins with a stern expression. "Be careful."
In response, the wood elf offers him a reassuring smile. "Always, Father. Don't worry." She hesitates for a moment before wrapping her arms around him, a silent yearning for the comforting presence of a parental figure she had longed for. Alden is initially taken aback but gradually returns the embrace, evoking memories of the first time Delphie hugged Astarion. She gives him one last smile before gracefully stepping into the portal.
Bathed in the muted glow of the moon and stars, the portal ejects them near the central watchtower in the heart of the Lower City. Astarion guides them up several flights of stairs until they stand before the grand entrance to the palace. The door swings open freely, guarded by Petras and Leon, as two other couples make their way inside. The vigilant spawn appear indifferent to the entrants, their focus seemingly fixed on ushering as many guests inside to satisfy Cazador.
Astarion gracefully links arms with Delphie, while Wyll mirrors the gesture with Shadowheart. Meanwhile, Esme renders herself invisible, soaring alongside them. A nervous breath escapes Astarion as he worries about the possibility of his siblings detecting him beneath the cloaking spell. Fortunately, they remain oblivious, and the quartet passes through the doors seamlessly.
Delphie gasps at the opulent interior of the palace. Chevron-patterned wooden planks grace the floor, adorned with a long red rug stretching down the corridor. Paintings embellish the walls, while elegant chandeliers cast a soft glow from above. Polished wooden side tables and cushioned chairs scatter around the room. The palace exudes beauty yet carries an underlying unease. Sensing her lover's tension upon entering, Delphie draws closer to him. While it doesn't completely ease his discomfort, she observes a slight loosening of his muscles.
Passing through an archway adorned with flowing red curtains, they enter the grand ballroom. To the right, a spacious L-shaped stage hosts three bards, each skillfully playing their instruments — one on the drum, another on the piano, and the third on the violin. Red velvet-plush chairs are scattered about, occupied by couples engaged in conversation. Astarion's gaze shifts to the far right, observing Dalyria gracefully taking guests' coats and hanging them in a wooden wardrobe. However, it's the figure directly in front of him that captivates his attention the most. Cazador sits regally in a throne-like chair atop a large wooden dais, a subtle, sadistic smile playing on his lips as the gathering swells in numbers.
"We'll need to split up. I'm sure we'll find something," Shadowheart suggests, her voice cutting through the lively music and pulling Astarion from his thoughts.
His eyes scan the left corner, and he gestures towards it. "His office is over there. We'll have to sneak in while nobody's looking."
"Any ideas for a distraction?" Delphie proposes.
"Cazador's too cunning for that. His main concern will be ensuring no one attempts to sneak into his office. Trust me, no one besides him goes in there," Astarion explains, his focus unwavering on the vampire lord.
"We'll keep an eye on the spawn, then," Wyll declares, earning a surprisingly serious nod from Astarion. With those words, he and Shadowheart blend into the bustling crowd, gracefully navigating the dance floor.
"Well, darling. Here goes nothing," Astarion utters with an exasperated sigh, extending his hand towards Delphie. She gracefully accepts, her slender hand seamlessly intertwining with his despite the altered appearances. Stepping onto the dance floor, the duo seems to merge with the music, moving in perfect harmony as they did the night before.
Their waltz unfolds as a spectacle of effortless elegance, each step a testament to precision and grace. Astarion leads with unwavering confidence, his touch firm yet tender as they glide across the floor. Delphie follows his lead as if she's been practicing the dance her entire life, her eyes locked onto his, moving as one.
Onlookers are captivated by the pair. A hush falls over the crowd as they cease dancing, their gazes fixed on Astarion and Delphie navigating the floor with a chemistry that transcends the steps of the waltz. Every twirl, every dip, is executed with a fluidity that speaks of the profound connection between the two.
The room seemingly fades away as Astarion and Delphie lose themselves in the dance, their movements evolving into a language of their own. For a fleeting moment, thoughts of Cazador cease to exist as they spin and twirl, ensnared in the enchantment of the music and each other.
As the final notes of the waltz echo through the ballroom, Astarion and Delphie come to a graceful stop. Synchronized breaths and a shared smile between them speak volumes. Applause erupts from the spectators, unable to contain their admiration for the mesmerizing dance they've just witnessed.
The enchantment shatters when the vampire lord approaches them, sending a chill down the wood elf's spine. Astarion, trying to conceal their true identities, tightens his grip on Delphie's hand.
"What an exquisite performance," Cazador begins with an unnerving smile, his crimson eyes shifting toward Delphie. "With such a lovely partner." He clicks his tongue. "You don't happen to mind if I borrow her for a moment?"
Astarion exchanges a concerned glance with the wood elf. He senses fear within her, but also the unwavering determination to put an end to this sadistic man's life. However, now isn't the opportune moment, and with just a look, they silently communicate their shared understanding. The vampire spawn reluctantly releases her hand as Cazador takes his place, the music resuming its melody.
As the rogue watches intently, Cazador guides her through the dance. One wrong move. Astarion thinks, clenching his fists. One wrong move on her, and I'll rip his throat out. Right here. Right now. Delphie tenses at the vampire lord's touch, and Astarion's vigilance intensifies.
"I have something special planned for tonight," Cazador whispers in her ear. The wood elf refrains from meeting his gaze, opting to focus on the peculiar ring adorning his finger. "And I can already presume you are very special." As he persistently flirts, she scrutinizes the ring, discerning a faint magical aura emanating from it.
Despite the anxiety and fear welling up inside her, she summons a playful smile, hoping it conceals her true emotions. "Your presumptions are correct," the wood elf responds, successfully masking the quiver in her voice better than anticipated. She recalls the instances when she witnessed Astarion deftly removing a shiny band from an unsuspecting finger without detection.
As Cazador begins to twirl her, she tightens her grip on his finger, smoothly sliding the ring off and onto her own finger, concealing its significance by wearing it upside down. The vampire lord remains oblivious, but anxiety simmers within her like a pot on the verge of boiling over. Thoughts race through her mind – what if he noticed and is biding his time to strike? What if she jeopardized the entire plan? What if she put her companions in greater danger? What if-
"My Lord," Shadowheart gracefully bows before him, extending her hand. "May I have this dance?" Cazador's smile widens as he halts his dance with Delphie. "Now's your chance," the half-elf whispers in her ear, subtly gesturing towards Astarion with her eyes before Cazador takes her hand.
The vampire spawn leans against the wall outside Cazador's office, a mysterious intensity in his gaze as he observes Delphie from a distance. Undeterred by the waltzing couples around her, the wood elf gracefully navigates the crowd until she reaches Astarion. Before she can utter a word, he captures her face in his hands, initiating a passionate kiss that leaves her breathless. Contrary to the illusionary tusks seemingly grown under Gale's spell, Delphie feels none of them, her senses consumed by the intensity of their connection.
Breaking the intimate connection, Astarion seizes her hand and leads her through the heavy curtains into the dimly lit expanse of Cazador's ominous office.
Curiosity sparkles in Delphie's eyes as she inquires with playful charm, "What was that for?" Astarion, his face framed by the soft glow of the room, doesn't offer a verbal response. Instead, he drops the cloaking spell enveloping himself, and Delphie realizes that words are unnecessary. The crimson fire in his eyes speaks of hunger and possessiveness, emotions that echo the turmoil within.
Her smile fades as Astarion crashes his lips against hers once again. Gently pushing him away, Delphie notices a subtle shift in his gaze, a touch of sadness clouding the intensity that had gripped him moments ago. In a silent understanding, she discards her own cloaking spell, laying bare the truth between them. "Astarion, stop. This isn't you," she pleads, feeling the weight of his emotions.
"He touched you," Astarion murmurs, his composure softening as he reaches up to caress her cheek. "He touched you," he repeats, anger simmering within him, a turbulent storm in his crimson eyes.
Delphie places her hand on top of his, a gentle reassurance. "I know. I'm okay, though," she reassures, moving his hand away to plant a soft, reassuring kiss on his cheek. "I'm here, and I'm safe."
Astarion, his arms wrapping around her with a protective embrace, allows himself to be enveloped in the comforting scent of oranges and balsam that emanates from her.
Shadowheart and Wyll, finally catching up to them, interrupt the moment between the two elves, forcing them to untangle themselves from each other.
"Where are your disguises?" the half-elf asks in concern. She pinches the bridge of her nose with a sigh when the only response she receives is the two elves exchanging a quick glance.
With a nod, they decide to split up and search the room for any information on the Ascension ritual. Shadowheart and Wyll start with the towering bookshelves, skimming the spines for relevant details. Astarion rifles through Cazador's ornate desk, but his findings are limited to a book detailing the plans for the grand party. Meanwhile, Delphie discovers an alcove farther away and decides to explore its depths. As she steps inside, her eyes widen in shock.
"Hey, guys?" she calls out, prompting the rest of her companions to rush to her side. "I think I found something."
Indeed, she did. Beneath her feet lies a teal-colored platform that subtly shifts as she steps on it.
"An elevator?" Astarion's eyes widen more than the others. "What the hells?"
Intrigued, the trio follows Delphie's lead and cautiously steps onto the platform, maintaining their balance as it initiates a descent into the unknown depths below.
The elevator gently touches down on a matching teal platform, accompanied by the melodic echoes of water droplets falling from the cavernous ceiling. As they step off the platform, their senses are inundated by the mysterious atmosphere that envelops them. The teal and gold marbled platform stretches far down the cavern, revealing a hidden corridor illuminated by an eerie green glow emanating from vase-like structures. Intrigued, they begin their descent, curiosity guiding their exploration as they cautiously open doors along the way.
Delphie, engrossed in her discoveries, opens one door and is met with a breathtaking view that nearly takes her breath away—she stands on the precipice, overlooking a never-ending abyss below. Looking up, she observes cages suspended from the ceiling, each filled with lifeless bodies. Gasping, she instinctively steps back, her wide-eyed shock evident. "What the hell is this place?"
Astarion, more accustomed to the macabre sights, guides her away to ensure she won't stumble on the few steps behind her. "I didn't even know this existed." Delphie composes herself as they proceed through another door. Astarion lets out an exasperated sigh as they encounter yet another obstacle—a door sealed with an arcane lock. "Anyone have a key?" he quips sarcastically.
Delphie, examining the runes, notices an insert that matches the shape of the key she had stealthily taken from the vampire lord. Intrigued, she presses it against the insert, raising her eyebrows as the door clicks and obediently swings open for them.
"I guess we do have a key," Astarion mutters, his tone a mix of surprise and resignation.
They soon realize, from the opulent bed to the array of scrolls, that they have entered Cazador's private quarters. Delphie approaches a skull delicately perched upon a pillow, a scroll securely held in its bony jaw. As the rest of the group prepares to leave, Astarion notices Delphie's focus and kneels beside her, sensing her entrance into a trance-like state. "Vellioth, Cazador's old master," she mutters, completely absorbed in the skull's memories.
The vampire spawn leans in to listen, his curiosity piqued. Delphie recounts what echoes in her mind. "Vellioth's first lesson...always dominate. Allow none to be your equal," she pauses, caught in the vivid recollection. "Vellioth drained Cazador's friend dry in front of him for reaching out."
Astarion can detect a hint of compassion in her voice as she relives the skull's memories. Rage surges through his veins at the thought of her sympathizing with the vampire lord. "Vellioth's second lesson...power comes from solitude. To share with others is to be weak. And to be weak means to fail and die," she continues, oblivious to Astarion's muscles tensing. "Cazador rebelled...and spent eleven years impaled because he failed." A tear trails down her cheek. "His third lesson...do not act in haste. A near-immortal has time to plan, time to act only when others pay the price of action. Cazador learned his lesson. He killed Vellioth in the Rite of Profane Slaughter. They both laughed." Delphie gasps, snapping back to reality.
"He used to be like you..." she whispers, fear tinged in her voice, hesitant to meet Astarion's gaze. "He was tortured and tormented by his master."
"Don't you dare compare me to him," the rogue's voice spits venomously.
Finally locking eyes with him, she notices the intensity of rage swirling within. Glancing down at his wrist, she realizes Pax is absent, and her heart sinks to her stomach. He's planning to take Cazador's place in the ritual. Shaking her head at him, he seems to read her thoughts, pulling his eyes away and standing up, storming out of the room.
After a few reflective moments, Delphie quietly follows Astarion, skillfully retrieving the liberated scroll and discreetly tucking it inside the garter on her leg. As they approach the next sealed door, the realization dawns upon them that the ring is needed to grant passage. Delphie presses the ring against the insert, stealing a fleeting glance at Astarion in her peripheral vision. The doors swing open, revealing a gut-wrenching sight—two locked cells, one housing children and the other adults, all of them cursed vampire spawn. "Astarion?" Her voice barely rises above a whisper. Having endured countless horrors under her mother's care, witnessing these children in captivity sends her spiraling.
"Oh Gods, it can't be..." Astarion keeps his distance from the cell, avoiding eye contact with Delphie.
"It's you..." One of the children steps forward. "I'll kill you! Once I get out of here I'LL KILL YOU!"
Delphie kneels in front of the girl, separated by the cold bars of the cell gate. "Where are you from? Who are your parents?"
"The Gur...my parents..." The wood elf glances over at Astarion. "Didn't he tell you? He's the one that kidnapped us. He's the reason we're spawn. I'LL KILL YOU."
Tears well up in Delphie's eyes. "Astarion, they're just children..."
"Don't look at me like that. You think I wanted to, Delphie? It was Cazador's orders," the pale elf explains defensively. "I really forgot about them, felt nothing the moment I handed them over to him." Regret floods his face as Delphie whips her head back around to face the children.
"You should go. Leave us here. We shouldn't be out there. We'd hurt our families," the girl says with a hurt expression.
Delphie's tears cease almost immediately as determination takes over. "Never give up hope. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about." She stands up. "We're getting you out of here."
"Delphie, what are you doing, darling? They're going to tear me to shreds..." Astarion sighs. "They'd never forgive me for what I've done."
The wood elf offers the girl a hopeful smile before redirecting her attention to her vampire spawn companion. "Deep down, they're just kids who need help."
Astarion responds with a look encompassing guilt, shame, and envy. "I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me, too. I just...never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn't need to know my shame."
"You," a man mutters from behind them. "I know you." The party turns around to face a vampire spawn in the cell, his red eyes glowing and shoulder-length black hair framing his anguished face. "You were the one in the tavern. You smiled and joked and got me drunk."
Delphie turns to Astarion with a somber look in her eyes. The rogue meets the gaze of the caged spawn with a mixture of regret and guilt. "You-no. You're dead."
"You called me so many sweet things. My name sounded like a lyric on your tongue."
Recognition flashes in Astarion's eyes, and his expression drops further. "Sebastian."
"You remember me."
"You were handsome. Shy. You'd never been kissed."
"You taught me how. And then you destroyed me," Sebastian declares, reaching out to attack Astarion. When he's unable to, he collapses to the ground in despair. Wyll and Shadowheart remain silent, standing witness to the unfolding interactions with profound sympathy etched on their faces.
Despite the lingering sadness building up inside of her, Delphie notices a familiar rune carved into Sebastian's and the other spawn's flesh. She turns to Astarion. "His scar matches one of the runes on your back."
"Then they're bound to the Black Mass too. Bound through the scars. And through me." Astarion gazes at the other spawn in the cell. "I know these faces - every one that shares my scar...they're my conquests. I pursued them, seduced them, then brought them to Cazador. He told us he was feeding on them. But he turned them to spawn. He turned every last one so he'd have souls for this cursed ritual."
Sebastian slowly stands up, staring at Astarion intensely with his glowing red eyes. "How long have I been down here?"
Delphie uneasily shifts her gaze between the floor and Astarion.
"One hundred and seventy years. You were one of my first."
The wood elf winces at his words.
"My family...my friends...they're gone. You took them from me. You took everything from me!"
The hem of Delphie's pink dress shifts a little as she steps closer with a determined look in her eyes. "Cazador plans to use you in his ritual - that's why he scarred you. Let us help."
After a few moments, Delphie's empathetic approach gives Sebastian a glimmer of hope, and he informs them that the key to open the doors is Cazador's staff, a piece of wood he never puts down. The wood elf recalls the staff attached to his back when he approached them earlier. Astarion promises Sebastian they'll return before pulling Delphie aside.
"Gods above... he kept Sebastian," he mutters in disbelief. "I should've known what Cazador was capable of. He's played us for such fools." Despite every shocking truth revealed moments prior, Delphie looks at him with the most sympathetic eyes. "Not just seven spawn to placate the devil. Seven spawn, and seven thousand souls bound to them in blood. Everyone who trusted me enough to let down their guard... innocents, idiots, and the unlucky." A moment of heavy silence passes before he begins to talk again. "It doesn't matter. I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform this ritual."
Delphie's sympathetic gaze grows stern as she cups Astarion's face in her hands. "You don't have to perform the ritual, Astarion. You can save them."
"What's the point? They're as good as dead. I thought they were dead." The wood elf drops her hands as Astarion lets out an exasperated sigh. "If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. They will be ravenous. They must die. Better they serve a purpose."
Making one last attempt to reach out to him, she gazes into his eyes, causing them to soften immensely. "In another life, you'd have led me to this crypt," Delphie's voice breaks, choking back tears.
Astarion looks away in shame, backing away from her. "Gods, I can't say you're wrong. I can only say I'm so glad we didn't meet then." He meets her gaze once again. "I don't even want to think about what would have happened to you..."
The ranger closes the gap once again, grabbing his hands. "To care again is to live again, dretri. You aren't him. You don't have to be him. You can be whoever you want to be."
A slow, sarcastic clapping echoes from behind them, eliciting whimpers from the children and fearful crouches from the adults. Turning around, the party sees Cazador approaching with a wide smirk. "I should have known our prodigal son would return." Astarion grits his teeth and instinctively pulls Delphie behind him. "Do not slouch before me, boy! Have you no respect for yourself?"
"Shit. This is exactly what we were trying to avoid," Wyll mutters under his breath.
The two vampires lock eyes in an intense staring contest. "Look at you, crawling back after abandoning your family. You should be begging for our forgiveness."
"Forgiveness?" The spawn questions, the frown on his lips growing. "You've never forgiven anything." Behind him, Delphie's eyes narrow. She pushes his arm away, standing beside him—a silent gesture to let him know he doesn't have to fight this battle alone. A quick glance is exchanged between the wood elf and the vampire spawn before his tone turns bitter. "Every mistake, every slip was punished!"
"I strove for perfection in all things - even those as imperfect as you," Cazador taunts, noticing how he's successfully revving Astarion up. "A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts."
How dare he? Delphie thinks to herself. If anything, the vampire spawn is stronger than his master. He escaped and then returned to end the vampire lord. He's doing what Cazador couldn't do to Vellioth.
"No! No," Astarion's voice breaks, snapping Delphie from her thoughts. "Fuck you and fuck everything you've ever done to me."
Delphie steps forward, no longer driven by fear but by anger. She's furious that this arrogant vampire is trying to bring down her man. He won't succeed, not while she's here beside him. "You will pay for everything you've done to him and the rest of these spawn."
Cazador looks down at her with pure disgust. "I will not speak to cattle! This is between me and the boy."
"You son of a bitch," Astarion mutters, lunging at the vampire lord. The insult aimed at Delphie, who is the last person deserving of it, sends him flying over the edge. The other three companions watch in shock as Cazador captures his fists in midair with red arcane cuffs.
"You truly forgot my power. You truly thought our bond as creator and creation was all that stopped you from killing me. You are weak, my child. You are a small, pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything."
Within mere seconds, Cazador turns them both into mist and flies through the last set of doors. Without thinking, Delphie rushes after them, almost tackling Wyll in the process to get to the doors. Before the other two companions can stop her, she throws the doors open and runs down the stairs, determined to reach the love of her life before it's too late.