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tripleyeeet · 7 months

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DELIVERANCE, DELIVER ME (13)

SUMMARY: You and the party finally discover what Ketheric (and company) are up to.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,770

WARNINGS: Spoilers for Act 2, so much angst (I'm sorry), canon typical violence, (sort of) major character death.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'd like to apologize for posting this chapter and then taking two weeks off. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

It’s an uphill battle for a while. As the minutes turn to hours and the hours quickly become what ends up being a day and a half of solid movement, you finally find yourself deep within the belly of the Illithid colony.

Gripping tightly onto the blade that resides in your hand, you can feel the membrane floor beneath your tired feet squelch as you creep further in, threatening to trip you with the way it gives each time you step to follow Wyll.

Directly in front of you, you watch as he instructs both Lae’zel and Gale to keep a close watch from behind while the rest of you continue exploring. “We have to be getting close by now,” he grumbles. Then, he motions you and Karlach to move ahead, making you sigh.

You’re a bit scared to admit it but you’re almost too exhausted to continue. After countless battles won against various foes, you’re at the point of barely being able to see straight. Against the dimness of your surroundings, your eyes feel heavier with each passing step, threatening to close as you walk through the tissued door ahead, hearing Karlach hum.

“It’s all clear,” she says, lowering her axe. As she does, you drop your knife and raise a hand to rub your eye, emitting a low yawn just as some devourers rush across your half-obscured vision, shifting your attention to watch a grouping of them scuffle around your feet.

“You know what? They’re honestly kind of cute, don’t you think?”

You blink at Karlach who’s ogling at one of the stragglers, lowering her body slightly downwards to give the brain a good pet before it squeaks in response and dashes away.

“You think a brain with legs is cute?”

Now at your side, Shadowheart scowls at the same creature, shaking her head while the rest of the group merely looks around, surveying the area further.

Unsurprisingly, it looks like every other section you’ve found yourselves in. Covered head to two in bodily innards, thick strands of membrane hang from the walls, dangling wetly above your heads, making you cringe as the group continues to speak.

“I mean, yeah, look at their little feet! You can’t tell me that’s not the most adorable thing you’ve seen all day!”

“I very well can.”

Next to Shadowheart, Gale smiles at Karlach. “They’re rather interesting specimens… in their own way. A bit easy on the eyes but I supposed I can understand the appeal.”

Shadowheart rolls her eyes then, causing Lae’zel to snort before telling everyone to focus. “We mustn’t allow any distractions,” she says. "We must focus on Ketheric Thorm and his inevitable death.”

“Possible inevitable death,” Astarion corrects with a smirk.

At that point, Wyll gives him a questionable look, prompting the rest of the group to follow his gaze, watching Astarion respond with a shrug.

“What? He might be useful.”

This time you snort, shaking your head as the group of you come up to another fleshy door, watching it tear open at your arrival to reveal another similar-looking room.

Upon entering, it becomes clear then that there's a long road ahead of you. Another lengthy journey of walking and fighting and whatever else it is you manage to do through the exhaustive stupors you’ve been experiencing. Almost immediately, just the thought alone makes you want to flop onto the ground, regardless of how disgusting it is. To curl up in a ball and have a good cry, realizing just how stressed you are.

Having been in constant fight or flight, you can feel the mask of bravery you often wear begin to slip. The closer you get to where you know you’ll meet your hardest fight thus far, the less poised you become. You can tell Astarion notices this by the time you’ve found Mizora. As she and Wyll exchange a few choice words with one another, you can feel him watching you fade. Staring far too intently at the way you shove your gloved knuckles into the base of your eyes, emitting a quiet groan in response.

It’s obvious then that he’s worried. His face shifts anxiously each time you so much as close your eyes after that, watching with caution as you drift alongside everyone else, your mind not all there.

By the time you make it to the platform that’ll inevitably lead you to Ketheric, you feel his hand on your arm, loosely gripping the leather of your armour until you turn to face him, blinking through the haze.

“You’re exhausted,” he points out. And even though it’s obvious you still shake your head in response, offering a tired smile as you continue to blink.

“I’m fine.”

He looks at you angrily before turning to the others who are already busily coming up with a plan, chaotically bouncing off one another until Astarion clears his throat and motions toward you.

“She can’t fight,” he says simply. “Not unless we rest.”

You open your mouth in annoyance only to close it over a yawn that pushes through, prompting Astarion’s face to transition into a smug expression as he huffs.

“We don’t have time to rest,” Lae’zel says, causing both Wyll and Shadowheart to awkwardly glance at one another, realizing she’s right.

It’s only a matter of time before things get worse. Considering how long you’ve spent wandering the halls of the colony, you know Ketheric’s already well onto the road of recovering from your last encounter.

Thanks to his endless amounts of resources, he’s probably already up and ready to maim every single one of you without so much as batting an eye, and because of this, you merely shake your head and brush Astarion away, telling him you’re fine. That you just need a little water —maybe a health potion or two and you’ll be good as new.

You can tell by the hurt expression that takes over his face that he doesn’t believe you. That your poorly produced lie has fallen on deaf ears, further spurring the confusion in his eyes as he watches you pull a flask out of your pack and begin to drink. Swallowing hard, you avoid his gaze then, moving to focus it on the area below.

Illuminating in a pale green light, the area calls to you —commanding you to descend as your tadpole violently wiggles behind your eye.

Groaning through it, you raise a hand to your temple and tightly shut your eyes, hearing Astarion swear under his breath before the feeling quickly surpasses, leaving you fearful as you glance around the party, realizing they felt it too.

“We must continue now before it’s too late,” Lae’zel says then. Through clenched teeth she clicks her tongue and moves towards the apparatus, turning to face the rest of the group once she’s directly in front of it. “Do you need healing?”

You almost shake your head, but before you can Astarion’s already grabbing your wrist and setting a potion into your open hand, glaring with narrowed eyes. “Take it,” he says, wrapping your fingers around the neck of the bottle. “And don’t argue —the last thing I want is to have you dying in my arms.”

He mutters it low enough so that only you can hear, making you roll your eyes through a hidden grin, obeying his command.

“Fine. But only because I love you.”

Unlike him, your words are loud enough for the rest of the team to hear, prompting Astarion to clear his throat and turn away when Karlach loudly gasps in response, causing a quick moment of uproar before Shadowheart shuts it down.

Glancing playfully at Astarion as you continue to sip the potion, you can tell he’s thankful for the subject change. Considering all the feelings between you are still a bit fresh, it’s obvious he’s nervous —cautious in the revealing of your private partnership.

It doesn’t bother you in the slightest. In fact, you completely understand his reservations, knowing the severity of everything happening. With Ketheric and the Absolute and all the other issues that seem to cross your path each time you so much as blink, it’s probably best you keep your feelings a bit closer to your chest. To keep him safe in the confines of your yearning chest.

Because of this, instead of teasing him like you’re tempted to do, you merely mouth out a silent sorry, love before brushing past to join Lae’zel on the platform, watching him hide a grin of his own as he and the others follow behind.

Once you’re all on and accounted for, Lae’zel then triggers the apparatus to begin its descent, causing your frame to roughly shift and stumble back, catching Astarion’s arm in the process.

“Falling all over again, are we?”

You give him a narrow-eyed look and peel your hand away, forcing back a smile of your own just as Wyll begins to formulate a plan. One that involves a lot of careful preparation, prompting everyone to listen as he discusses who should get up close versus attack from afar.

“Gale and Astarion, keep your distance,” he begins, motioning to both of them. “Flank from the sides or above —whatever you like. Just keep yourselves hidden until I say otherwise.”

Both of them nod in agreement as Wyll continues to speak, telling Lae’zel and Karlach to rush into the thick of things while the rest of you sit somewhere in the middle so that you can jump back and forth if need be.

Overall, it’s a simple formation. One that you’ve used countless times over the last few weeks, making it easy to follow. And because of this, there’s an immediate wave of optimism that surrounds your senses once you step off the platform and move into Ketheric’s domain, sneaking through the membrane that shields you from his gaze.

Once there, all of you crowd towards the ground to watch him pace across an entirely different platform. Slightly above, you can hear him sigh and groan, his footsteps echoing until they’re suddenly stagnant and an unfamiliar voice begins to speak.

“You said it was under control.”

The voice is calm —low and calculated. Narrowing your eyes, you slide around the structure that hides you, taking a few hurried steps towards another so that you can see the voice’s face, noticing there are others.

Two men and a woman join Ketheric in discussion. Beneath the woman, one of the others sits crouched and helpless, eyes desperately shutting as she sits on his back, playing with the knife in her hands. Beside her, the other man talks to Ketheric as if he’s above him, speaking of their failed plan —of you and the rest of your party and how Ketheric’s new plan was to lead you down here.

Upon hearing this, you glance at Wyll who’s clenching his jaw and moving forward, prompting Karlach to pull him right back with a shake of her head. At that point, you remember then that the man practically folded into the ground is unfortunately his father, Ulder. A man he hasn’t seen for quite some time thanks to Mizora and his inevitable banishment. Realizing this, you frown but look back over, watching Ketheric’s fist fly into the air just as the woman’s blade stops at his neck, prompting everyone to stand down despite the tension.

After that, you can hear a fit of laughter push through the woman’s voice. As she repeats the word again almost manically, pulling her knife away from Ketheric’s throat, she then talks of Baldur’s Grave. How Ketheric must lead some sort of murder march to it.

It’s a strange sentence. The kind that has you narrowing your eyes, trying your best to focus on the conversation further in order to understand her words as they continue their back and forth, speaking of a weapon before informing Ketheric of their dwindling patience.

“Orin and I can wait for you no longer,” the dark-haired man says. “The plan proceeds —we’re going to the city, and we expect you to follow— army and weapon in tow.”

None of you are entirely sure what he means. At least, not until he’s moving towards the edge of the platform, raising his hand to reveal a gleaming stone as he calls the edict of Bane. At which point, you share a worried look with Astarion. Both of your throats swallowing hard as the woman then calls for the lash of Bhaal, triggering an eruption beneath you.

Gripping onto the structure that resides in front of you, you feel the ground begin to shake. At first, it’s rough, tossing you around a bit but quickly it settles once the presence of a tentacle rips through the water, crashing just a few feet away.

As it happens, your breath catches in your throat. Failing to exit, it sits tight against your vocal cords like an enemy's hand, threatening to suffocate you as a large brain begins to ascend amongst the waves, pulsating disgustingly.

Cringing at the sight, you take note of Ketheric as he joins the duo, calling forth the testament of Myrkul, triggering a different voice inside your head.

It’s the same voice you’ve been hearing throughout your journey. The voice that initially saved you through the wreckage. The one that’s been entering your dreams unannounced and feeding your information. As your tadpole twitches enthusiastically, you can hear it loud and clear, informing you that the creature that continues to rise through the air is in fact an elder brain. A creature so powerful and cruel that, upon discovery, you visibly shudder at the thought of what it’s capable of.

Well, this obviously wasn’t what I expected.

Without hesitation, Astarion’s voice clears away the rest of your thoughts, pulling you back to look at him jerk his head towards the enemy, noticing the woman grip Ulder’s head, granting the elder brain’s tentacle enough access to shove a tadpole in his eye.

As it happens, you cringe at the sight, remembering your own experience as the two men continue to discuss the details of their shared plot. About how Ketheric’s meant to attack the city so that the other man, the supposed hero, can save it.

It’s a simple plot. One that you know will be convincing enough considering the state everyone’s in. Based solely on your experiences throughout your travels, it’s obvious that everyone can feel it coming. The shift they’ve been weaving behind closed doors.

Wherever you’ve found yourselves the tensions have felt higher than they need to be. Difficult to navigate thanks to the wariness of the Absolute and its ever-growing presence. Normally, people refuse to trust you on instinct but lately, they’ve been borderline hostile, attacking you without much reason —forcing you to fight when all you want is peace.

It’s why, by the end of the discussion after everyone but Ketheric seemingly disappears into thin air, the breath you were previously holding stumbles out like a gasp. Forcing you further down towards the ground, you run a hand down your face as it happens, realizing then just how big this has become. How, despite knowing that the Absolute was already dangerous, the last thing you expected was a shared plot between the harbingers of death and chaos itself.

Suddenly breathing hard, you discard the act of hiding to rush over to Wyll, placing a hand on his shoulder for support, watching him scowl at Ketheric who finally clues into your presence.

“There you are.”

Like all the other times you’ve spoken to him, you notice the eerie amount of calm that radiates through his voice. As if he already knows how this will end. Annoyingly, it manages to send a shiver down your spine as he begins to clue you in on everything you’ve missed. About his God and their deal —about Gortash and Orin and their shared plot to grow and take over the Absolute all in exchange for his daughter’s life.

In the moment, it’s a lot to take in. The idea that these Gods have essentially been working together. But quickly you snap out of the shock, forcing yourself to listen to his threats —to hear him talk of how he’ll kill you and then raise you as his undead servants.

As soon as he finishes there’s a moment of silence before Lae’zel attempts to take the first swing. With her longsword, she leaps and strikes the edge of Ketheric’s abdomen, angrily scraping away the armour with a hearty scream that triggers the rest of you to move. Seemingly all at once, you all then scatter into position, watching Gale and Astarion begin to strike the undead soldiers that rise from the earth on opposite ends while you and Shadowheart move towards the middle, using magic to do the same.

“It’s no use, True Soul,” Ketheric taunts then, dodging Karlach’s swinging axe with a snort before he swings his sword right back, catching her in the arm.

As she cries out in pain, Wyll slices through an undead’s skull before turning his attention to the injured tiefling, immediately rushing to her aid.

After that, all of you fall into the same rhythm. When one of you is struck there’s an instant urgency that takes place, causing whoever’s closest to help the other before you relocate and reset.

Because of this, it takes a while to weaken Ketheric’s defences. To strike him down hard enough so that his power begins to dwindle. So much so that by the time you’ve regained your focus after helping Wyll up a second time, you finally notice the reason you were sent to the mausoleum in the first place.

Struggling against conjured shackles, Aylin, the woman you met deep within Shar’s domain —the one who attempted to help the first time you fought Ketheric— now stands, calling your attention, screaming for you to release her so that she can help.

Without even thinking you nod your head and rush to her aid, narrowly avoiding an arrow that whizzes by your face along the way. Panting through the exhaustion, you move as quickly as possible, forcing your body to climb up a ladder of flesh, ignoring the ooze that slips through your fingers.

Once upright, you continue moving towards her, watching her struggle against the bonds through gritted teeth, begging you to help.

Drawing your sword you begin to hack at the magic upon her request, groaning with each strike until you can see it cracking under the pressure. Breaking down bit by bit until—

You see the blade before you feel it. The way it angles down from your left shoulder into the air in front of you. Narrowing your eyes, it takes a moment, but not long after you notice the blood, you finally feel the shooting pain of your injury. How it spreads like wildfire throughout your torso, threatening to stop your lungs.

Shakily, you crane your neck to see the undead soldier loom carelessly above you. Somehow its hand is still locked tightly on the handle of the blade as you begin your descent to the ground, gasping for air just as Aylin breaks free and immediately kills it, saying something you don’t quite hear as it happens.

Despite not being able to make out her exact words you can tell they’re angry. Loud and irritated as she motions toward your body, making you groan. Making you realize that despite wanting more than anything to live, your eyes are slowly closing.

After that all you do is feel and hear, struggling to process.

Because without your eyesight, it’s as if everything else has been sorely amplified. Within your chest, the only thing you can feel is the blooming of your blood coating you in a heavy ache. The way it warms your skin beneath the already-heated leather of your clothes. As you lay there covered in it, you feel it bubble up your throat, obstructing every lick of air that fights towards the surface, causing you to gag. To fearfully reach for your throat as your ears begin to ring, reminding you it’s time.

You can’t fight it anymore.

As much as you want to, the injury is too severe to remedy with the lack of resources you and your party have. Despite wanting to live, even when you feel those familiar hands pull you into a tight embrace, clutching your face with those cooling hands, you know that you're done. That your time here has finished and there’s nothing more you can do about it except hope that it meant something.

Feeling your body shake against the one that holds you, you hear a garbled sound of despair. A sob so visceral it only serves to further rip right through your chest, causing a whimper to sound through the stream of blood that coats your lips.

I thought I fucking told you not to die!

The moment you hear Astarion’s voice inside your head you’re already sobbing. Between each gasp, the pain of his presence immediately pulls you from your last few moments of peace. Forcing you to realize that you’ve let him down. That like all the others in his life, you’ve abandoned him.

Why can’t you listen?

You can hear the anger in his voice as he begs you to stay. To fight for survival —to fight for him. To stay so that he doesn’t have to be alone again as he reaches for your hand, taking it tightly in his own.

You try your best to hold it back. Faintly, your fingers twitch but ultimately fail to hold any weight; much like your mind that refuses to let you speak back to him. To tell him that he’s going to be fine. That the others will help him. That you won’t just be fine but that you’ll be okay too.

Now crying with you, you hear him yell through the ringing again. A piercing sound of syllables that echo in your skull as you attempt to open your eyes.

Like the soldier from before, he’s looming above you, only covered in tears and blood, pressing his lips together to hold back the quivering mess he’s become when Shadowheart finally makes it to his side, saying something about you. About letting you go but Astarion refuses to oblige, tightening the hold he has on your frame until Shadowheart’s fully yelling his face and tugging at his clothes, forcing him to let go just as your eyes begin to shut again, feeling her hands turn you to your side to rip the knife from your flesh.

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