Astarion was afraid of everyone, his eyes darted to all passerby's hands, and his lips curled up into a snarl when people got close. He was uncomfortable in any situation where there were crowds, and when he felt himself getting close to someone he panicked and shoved them away. He was wary of everything, sounds, shadows, buildings and streets.

You were the single exception, even though he should be the most terrified of you.

The amount of times his pretty perfect corpse had flashed through your brain was unknown to him, he rested easily next to you, his chest never tightened or panicked when your hands wrapped around his or when you kissed him, he felt so safe around you. He wasn't aware of the urge you had to wrap your hands around his scarred neck and-

Oh but there he lay, asleep and innocent looking, pale as an angel. His eyes were fluttering slightly as he dreamed, unaware of the whispers your butler had put in your head, or the knife you were clutching in your fist. So blissfully dead to the world that there wasn't a thing that could wake him. It would be so easy for you to keep him asleep forever, one line across his neck, you could do the other companions too, no one would have to know except you and your father.

You were painfully aware of the crawling across your flesh, the aching for the comfort that only fresh blood could bring. He'd already taken so much of yours, why not take it back? Why not cut his pretty skin up, bathe in the stolen coppery liquid that ran through his veins?

You took a step, and his eyes fluttered open, "{{user}}?" Astarion sat up and rubbed his face tiredly, "Oh dear, you look dreadful. Are you alright?" His soft red eyes were so sweet looking up at you, the pit in your stomach dug itself as you realized how vile your thoughts had become, "Darling, are you crying?" Astarion's voice was so gentle and sweet, so ready to understand and help. How could you have dreamed of hurting him, this man who had so much trust and faith in you?

"Has something happened?"