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dndfantasygirl · 20 days

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Fighting for Freedom (Chapter 23: Delphie's Final Act)

Rating: Mature Word count: 2.9k Pairing: Spawn Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo

Summary: Astarion and Delphie return to the fray, where odds are not in their favor.

*Link to AO3 Post

*Link to Previous Chapter

It's weird. Hearing Delphie yelp in pain distracted him for the briefest second. That's all it took for the Emperor to gain the upper hand in their fight. He doesn't remember much besides that. He does remember being scared because honestly, he doesn't want to die. He very much wants to live with Delphie by his side. He couldn't let her see that as he was dying because if nothing else, he wants her to live a happy life. Preferably with him, but as long as she's happy... She had to stay focused. He couldn't let her worry about him. But that was then, and this is now.

As Echo soars through the sky once more, Delphie's frustration bubbles up as she realizes they had left Astarion's leather cuirass behind in the heat of the moment. It lies abandoned amidst the chaotic battlefield, an oversight that makes her groan in irritation. She turns to the vampire spawn.

"Just stay close when we get down there. I lost my head. Your armor's quite literally in the middle of the battlefield."

Astarion's response is laden with a heavy sigh, his disappointment evident. "You really did, didn't you?"

With a sudden sense of urgency, the wood elf recognizes that Astarion is without his weapons. Without hesitation, she retrieves the twin slate knives from their sheaths and thrusts them towards him. "Here."

He gazes at her blankly, prompting Delphie to shake the knives in exasperation, shooting him a look that clearly says 'come on'. "I'm not gonna let you go out there unarmed."

"I'm grateful for that, my love, but what about you?" A note of concern colors the vampire spawn's voice.

Delphie's smirk is triumphant. "Don't forget, I'm half sorcerer, remember?" She winks mischievously at him before peering over the edge at the chaos unfolding below.

The situation is dire, far graver than they initially anticipated. A menacing nautiloid hovers ominously beside the Netherbrain, its presence punctuating the chaos with intermittent releases of grotesque aberrations into the already tumultuous fray. Despite the reunion of the group with Shadowheart and Jaheira at the brain's vicinity, the tension hangs heavy in the air, each member teetering on the brink of exhaustion and desperation.

Shadowheart, in particular, wears the weight of their predicament like a heavy shroud. Her usually composed demeanor is fraying at the edges, her resolve tested beyond its limits. She knows they need an escape, a lifeline to pull them from the clutches of this nightmarish ordeal. What she craves is the ability to invoke Selune's divine intervention, to call upon her goddess for the aid they so desperately need.

As they draw nearer to their destination, Delphie prepares herself for the inevitable leap from the dragon's back, her hand tightly clasping Astarion's.

"Ready to end this?" her voice rings out.

"I thought you'd never ask," the vampire spawn retorts, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

With an unspoken agreement passing between them, they synchronize their movements and leap from the dragon's back. In that suspended moment, as gravity claims them and the world around seems to slow, Astarion steals a glance at Delphie. Her form is illuminated by the faint glow of her arcane energies, hands outstretched as she begins her incantation. The scales on her forehead shimmer with a radiant light, casting an ethereal aura around her. In that fleeting instant, she is more than mortal; she is a vision of power and beauty, a goddess in her own right. Just as always.

"Gralik itpro!" Delphie's command slices through the stillness, shattering the suspended moment as time resumes its natural flow. In response, a brilliant bolt of azure lightning streaks forth from her outstretched hands, crackling with raw arcane power. It finds its mark, striking each of the three mind flayers that had encroached upon Shadowheart's flank. In an instant, their forms are consumed by the searing energy, reduced to smoldering ash.

Even as the remnants of their enemies drift away on the stagnant air, the elves land deftly upon the grotesque surface of the fleshy brain, their movements synchronized in perfect harmony. "Shadowheart! Call for Selune!" Delphie's urgent command rings out.

Without hesitation, the cleric nods in acknowledgment, her faith unwavering as she invokes the divine aid of her goddess. As her prayer reverberates through the pulsating mass of the Netherbrain, a soothing light blue aura envelops the weary party, suffusing them with a renewed vitality and vigor. In that fleeting moment of respite, their fatigue melts away, replaced by a surge of renewed strength and determination.

With newfound energy coursing through their veins, the party exchanges knowing smirks, a silent acknowledgment of their shared triumph over adversity. As one, they rally against the encroaching horde of aberrations, weapons flashing and spells flying as they tear through their foes.

The brain is weakened - this is our chance.

Orpheus. Delphie's gaze rises to where the mind flayer perches above them, a silent exchange of determination passing between them. With a resolute nod, she turns to her companions. "Astarion and I will head to the portal! Cover us!"

The urgency of her command spurs the others into action. Karlach, her grin a ferocious slash across her face, hefts her axe with a predatory gleam in her eye. "Gladly," she growls, anticipation coursing through her veins like wildfire. With a swift and brutal stroke, she cleaves an intellect devourer in half, its grotesque form falling apart at her feet in a flurry of viscera.

As the elven duo navigates through the chaotic battlefield towards the ominous portal, Astarion moves with the fluid grace of a seasoned predator. He wields his lover's daggers, each strike a masterful display of finesse and lethality. With a swift flick of his wrist, he dispatches Absolutists and aberrations alike, his movements a mesmerizing dance of death amidst the swirling chaos.

Beside him, Delphie unleashes the full force of her arcane prowess, her voice ringing out with authority as she shouts incantations with practiced ease. With each word, raw magical energy surges forth, blasting their adversaries back with explosive force. Her spells weave a protective barrier around them, a shield against the onslaught of their enemies' relentless assault.

And then, finally, they stand before the yawning maw of the portal, its darkness swirling with malevolent intent. With a shared glance of determination, they step forward together, disappearing into the void as they leave the chaos of the battlefield behind them.

-------------------------------

Its will is weakening - the brain is almost defeated!

Orpheus enters not long after them.

Their surroundings are a nightmarish tableau, a grotesque fusion of flesh and stone that defies description. They stand upon platforms fashioned from what can only be described as slabs of petrified purple flesh, surrounded by pink fleshy tendrils that writhe and pulse with a sickening vitality. Each step they take sends shivers down their spines, a stark reminder of the twisted reality they now inhabit.

With a silent nod of acknowledgment, Orpheus wastes no time in springing into action. With a surge of telekinetic energy, he levitates down to the nearest platform. Without hesitation, he unleashes a barrage of attacks upon the Netherbrain, his assault relentless and unforgiving.

"Let's go!" Delphie's shouts, her determination unwavering despite the Netherbrain's relentless assault on their minds. With a grimace, she summons the power of her wings, lifting herself into the air with a graceful sweep. With a determined grit, she reaches out and hoists Astarion by his pits, her muscles straining against the weight as she struggles to carry him.

As they soar towards the platform beside Orpheus, the very fabric of their surroundings begins to unravel. With a deafening roar, multiple platforms erupt into explosions of fleshy debris, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. The sudden violence of the Netherbrain's retaliation catches them off guard.

"It can do that?!" Astarion shouts in disbelief.

"Apparently!" the wood elf's response is sharp, her voice tinged with frustration as she battles to maintain their precarious hold on the situation.

With determination fueling their every move, the vampire spawn springs into action, the slate blades in his hands flashing in the dim light as he launches a relentless assault against the Netherbrain. Delphie matches his fervor with a flurry of spells as she hurls magical projectiles towards their formidable foe.

As the explosions continue to echo around them, more and more of the purple platforms succumb to the destructive force unleashed by the Netherbrain. With each detonation, the air is filled with the acrid scent of burning flesh, creating a surreal tableau of destruction.

Hurry! There is not much time.

Soon, only two platforms remain, the only sanctuary amidst the chaos. The elves stand poised upon them, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of determination. There is no need for words; their shared resolve speaks volumes as they prepare for the final confrontation.

With a quick nod from Delphie, they turn their attention back to the Netherbrain, their focus singular and unwavering. The wood elf's form begins to subtly lift into the air, her wings poised motionless at her sides. A radiant glow emanates from her eyes and scales, enveloping her in a halo of golden light.

With a voice that resonates with authority, Delphie begins to chant, her words echoing with ancient power and purpose. "Si relgr acht sia bafotruhki persvek nomenoi xoalir tairaisic di rigluin. Tluog ve dout vers. Letoclo ve troth sia itova iri kagh wer xiekivi svaust waph persvek nomeno thaczil. Bafotruhki, tluog ve dout vers." The incantation is familiar, the same words she had uttered in defiance against Myrkul in the mind flayer colony a few weeks prior.

Astarion's gaze remains fixed on her, his concern etched into the furrow of his brow. He can sense the weight of her fear, a tangible presence that hangs heavy in the air like a shroud. It's a fear that he knows all too well—the fear of loss, of failure, of the unknown that lurks beyond the edges of their reality.

As he watches her, he sees the shadows of her past traumas reflected in her eyes—the fear of almost losing him, of facing the prospect of a future without him by her side. But it's not just him she fears losing; it's their companions, their friends who have become like family, each one a vital thread in the tapestry of their lives. Her step-siblings as well. And beneath it all, he can sense the primal fear of her own mortality, the uncertainty of what lies beyond the veil of existence.

In that moment, as he stands beside her, the vampire spawn feels something stirring within him, a sensation that is foreign. It's as if a dormant power lies coiled within his very being, waiting to be unleashed. It's not an enchantment, not a spell cast by some external force, but a power that is uniquely his own—a latent potential waiting to be unlocked.

Instinctively, he reaches out for Delphie's hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. "Tell me what to do."

In response, the wood elf's eyes undergo a remarkable transformation, the fear that once clouded them giving way to a fierce determination. With unwavering confidence, she issues her command. "Listen to my ancestors," she instructs, holding her palm out.

Without hesitation, the vampire spawn obeys, his movements mirroring Delphie's as he extends his free hand in front of him. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, allowing himself to sink into the depths of his consciousness. And there, in the recesses of his mind, he hears them—the echoes of the wood elf's draconic ancestors, their voices a comforting presence amidst the chaos that surrounds him.

As he listens, a warmth begins to suffuse his usually cold body, spreading from the depths of his soul to every corner of his being. It's a sensation unlike any he has ever experienced, a gentle caress that soothes the wounds of his past and ignites a spark of hope within him. He feels a tingling sensation tracing the scars on his back, a reminder of the trials he has endured and the strength he has gained along the way.

In that moment of clarity, he understands.

As Astarion's eyes snap open, he is greeted by a sight beyond comprehension. Unaware of his own transformation, he floats weightlessly beside Delphie, his entire being bathed in a radiant golden glow that mirrors her own. The crimson orbs that once held dominion over his gaze now shimmer with a brilliant gold, casting their luminous light into the surrounding darkness. Even the scars that mar his back seem to pulse with an ethereal energy, tracing lines of ancient power across his pale skin.

Around them, a gentle breeze stirs, though there is no discernible source. Delphie's cloak billows behind her, while their hair dances in the unseen wind, shimmering with a faint aura of iridescence.

Astarion doesn't have to look behind them to know the spectral forms of her ancestors are behind them. Helping them. Guiding them. Protecting them.

"DOCAR KADEN!" Their voices resonate with power and purpose, a unified cry that pierces the air like a thunderclap. From their outstretched hands, twin torrents of swirling smoke, shot through with white-hot embers, erupt forth with a force that shakes the very ground beneath them. The clouds dance and weave in a mesmerizing display of elemental fury, their forms intertwining and merging as if guided by some unseen force.

As the swirling maelstroms converge upon the Netherbrain, a deafening roar echoes through the chamber, the sound of agony and despair mingling with the crackling of flames. The abomination thrashes and convulses within the confines of the swirling tempest, its form obscured by the dense clouds of smoke and fire that engulf it.

For a moment, all is chaos—a cacophony of sound and fury that threatens to consume everything in its path. And then, as suddenly as it began, the tempest begins to subside.

I-IMPOSSIBLE. FEAR. PAIN. TERROR.

"YOU WILL OBEY!" Delphie adds on through her gritted teeth.

Reconsider. Assess. Implore. SURRENDER!

The elves sink to their knees, their bodies trembling with exhaustion. Despite the weight of their weariness, their hands remain clasped together.

There. At last. It is subdued.

Hovering nearby, Orpheus glides gracefully towards them. As the last of the embers fade from the Netherbrain, he offers a solemn nod.

And thus, I honor my mother's legacy. The Grand Design, once again, ended by my line.

"As you should." Delphie offers him a weak smile, her arm wrapping around Astarion's shoulders. "Go ahead. Command the brain to destroy all the tadpoles, then itself."

Orpheus nods in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to the Netherbrain. With a sense of purpose, he extends his hands towards the pulsating mass, a solemn determination in his gaze. In his grasp, the Netherstones hover, pulsing with an otherworldly energy as they approach the quivering form of the Netherbrain.

My master. I must. OBEY. I must. END!

With the Netherbrain's ominous words reverberating through their minds, Delphie and Astarion are overcome by searing agony, their hands instinctively flying to their temples as waves of excruciating pain wash over them. It feels as though their very brains are on fire, the relentless burning sensation tearing through their consciousness like a raging inferno. In the depths of their minds, they can feel the insidious presence of the tadpoles writhing and squirming.

As suddenly as it began, the pain subsides, leaving the elves gasping for breath as they struggle to make sense of their surroundings. Blinking through bleary eyes, they find themselves surrounded by the rest of their friends, their bodies streaked with the mingled blood of aberrations and Absolutists.

And then, in a moment of surreal clarity, the Crown of Karsus shatters into countless pieces, its fractured remnants tumbling into the depths of the ocean below. As the last vestiges of the artifact disappear from view, a profound silence descends upon the battlefield, enveloping them in a cocoon of stillness that is as unnerving as it is unexpected.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, they are alone with their thoughts, their minds free from the intrusive whispers and commands of the Netherbrain. In the absence of its influence, they are left to grapple with the aftermath of their ordeal, their thoughts their own once more.

As the Netherbrain begins its rapid descent towards the ocean below, the ground beneath them lurches suddenly, catching them off guard. Each member of the party loses their balance, stumbling and grasping desperately for purchase as gravity exerts its inexorable pull. The world spins dizzyingly around them, the air alive with the sound of their startled cries.

But before disaster can strike, the dragons spring into action with uncanny swiftness, diving down from the sky with a thunderous roar. They swoop beneath their friends, catching them in the nick of time. As they ascend into the sky once more, the rush of wind and the pounding of their hearts are the only sounds that fill the air.

As the dragons carry them away from the plummeting Netherbrain, Delphie and Astarion share a glance, their laughter ringing out in a chorus of relief and jubilation. They had done it. Against all odds, they had emerged victorious.

As Astarion turns away to watch the final descent of the Netherbrain, Delphie notices something remarkable—a subtle transformation that had taken place during the heat of battle. The scars that once marred his back are now adorned with scales like hers.

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