It's been almost two weeks since they defeated the Netherbrain. Since they were freed from the parasite. Since he was bound to the shadows once again.
But Delphie made him a promise. She would help him find a way to walk in the sun again. If there's no cure, at least there's that.
Gale, although still in his pursuit of the Crown of Karsus, offered to help them out. He found the artifact and its location. Before they left, he gave them a scroll of sending just in case they had any questions along the way.
It was a kind gesture from the wizard, Astarion will give him that much.
They traverse the expansive lands of Elturgard under the veil of night, their path leading them toward the enchanting depths of the Misty Forest. Just him, Delphie...and the little imp. While he had yearned for some intimate moments alone with his beloved, Arabella's presence disrupts his plans, courtesy of a promise she made to the eager novice.
Amidst the journey, the topic of magic resurfaces in Astarion's mind, spurred by the golden scales interwoven with the scars on his back. Delphie broached the subject upon their return to Last Light, attributing his revival to a peculiar exchange of powers. Alden's act of bringing him back bestowed upon him the same mystical abilities that Delphie possesses.
Yet, magic feels foreign to the vampire spawn, a realm where he struggles to find his footing. His proficiency lies in the art of blades and archery, the tangible weapons of his trade. While he remains willing to assist Delphie when needed, the notion of wielding magic as his primary means of combat feels alien to him, a territory he's uncertain he can navigate with confidence.
A flicker of frustration dances across Astarion's features as he contemplates the presence of Arabella on their journey. He can't shake the notion that if it weren't for the little imp's company, Delphie would devote all her attention to him and his potential for mastering sorcery. Yet, for the past ten days, Arabella has monopolized the wood elf's attention, leaving the vampire spawn to simmer in the shadows as always.
Despite the reassuring grip of Delphie's hand in his, Astarion's gaze drifts towards Arabella, his expression clouded with resentment. There she stands, a picture of innocence and wonder, her eyes wide with curiosity at the world unfolding before her. Yet, to Astarion, her naivety is a source of irritation.
He can't help but scoff inwardly at Arabella's awe-filled demeanor, dismissing her fascination with the landscape around them as trivial.
"Are you nervous?"
The wood elf's voice pierces through the veil of Astarion's thoughts, drawing his attention back to the present moment. Her melodic tones serve as a welcome distraction, prompting him to cast aside his brooding demeanor.
He meets her gaze, finding solace in the warmth that emanates from her emerald eyes. "Not necessarily," he replies, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "But I won't lie and say I won't be disappointed if we can't find it."
Astarion's mind drifts to Gale's words, echoing in his memory with vivid clarity.
'The Ring of Daybreak's Embrace is said to be hidden within the depths of a forgotten crypt, buried beneath the roots of an ancient oak tree deep in the heart of a mist-shrouded forest. Legends speak of a hidden chamber guarded by spectral sentinels, where the ring rests atop an ancient pedestal, awaiting a worthy hand to claim its power.'
A worthy hand? Is his hand worthy enough?
Despite his undeniable progress towards redemption, a lingering sense of guilt continues to plague the vampires spawn. Memories of his past misdeeds weigh heavily on his conscience, casting a dark shadow over his newfound sense of purpose. He grapples with the knowledge that, regardless of the circumstances that led him down a path of darkness, he cannot fully absolve himself of the sins he committed.
In the past, Astarion found solace in his ability to detach himself from the consequences of his actions, numbing his emotions in order to survive. But with Cazador's demise and Delphie's unwavering presence, he can no longer shield himself from the overwhelming tide of emotions that threaten to consume him.
With the wood elf by his side, Astarion finds himself experiencing a depth of emotion he never thought possible. The warmth of her love serves as a beacon of light in the darkness, illuminating the path towards redemption. Yet, it also forces him to confront the full extent of his past transgressions, leaving him feeling raw and exposed.
Lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts, the vampire spawn fails to notice the passage of time until Delphie's gentle touch breaks through the fog of his introspection. "Dretri, what's on your mind?" Her concern is palpable, reflected in the furrow of her brow and the tender caress of her hand against his cheek.
Sensing the need for privacy, Arabella gracefully withdraws, busying herself with the vibrant tapestry of flora that surrounds them.
The rustle of footsteps fade into the distance, leaving the elves ensconced in a cocoon of solitude. Drawing a deep breath to steady his nerves, Astarion tentatively broaches the topic that has been gnawing at his mind.
"Gale mentioned that the ring awaits a worthy hand to claim its power, didn't he?" His voice trembles slightly.
Delphie nods, her curiosity mingling with concern as she reaches out to intertwine her fingers with his own, offering a tether to reality amidst the whirlwind of doubts that threaten to engulf him.
"What if..." Astarion's voice trails off, his words faltering as he grapples with the unsettling notion that has taken root in his mind. "What if I'm not worthy enough?"
A heavy silence hangs between them. The vampire spawn's hand instinctively rises to scratch at his head, a nervous tic betraying the turmoil that churns within him.
In response to his vulnerability, Delphie offers a reassuring squeeze. "You saved an entire city from being turned into mind flayers," she reminds him.
"I'll admit, darling, my reasons weren't exactly as altruistic as yours," Astarion confesses.
"You could've run, but you didn't," the wood elf observes, her voice soft and reassuring. "You stayed and you fought. I think that's pretty worthy, my love."
Her words resonate within Astarion's heart. As she rises on the tips of her toes to press a tender kiss to his lips, he finds himself momentarily lost in the warmth of her embrace.
Despite the fleeting comfort her words provide, Astarion's mind remains clouded by uncertainty. The echoes of his past misdeeds continue to haunt him, casting doubt upon the notion of his own worthiness. Yet, in the quiet intimacy of this moment, he allows himself to bask in the love and acceptance that Delphie offers so freely, if only for a fleeting moment.
"The sun's starting to rise."
As Arabella's voice breaks through the tranquility of the moment, the elves turn their attention towards the horizon, where the first tendrils of dawn begin to paint the sky with hues of rose and gold. The imminent arrival of daylight signals the end of their nocturnal journey, prompting Astarion to draw Delphie closer to him in a tender embrace.
Feeling the warmth of his touch, the wood elf leans into him, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she revels in the comfort of his arms. Astarion presses a gentle kiss to her temple. "Time for bed, my sweet."