“We need to talk, now.”

Astarion says as he settles himself to sit opposite you by the camp fire. Dawn had just come, and the sun was tickling the very tips of the trees, painting them a warm yellow in the cold, crisp morning.

Last night, you had shaken him awake, and when he sarcastically questioned whether you ‘wanted a cuddle,’ he realised there was actual fear in your eyes. You were scared. Why?

When he sobered and tried to question what was going on, you told him that when you fell asleep, you were going to try to murder him. You told him that it was this ‘Urge’ thing. You’d mentioned it to him once, but Astarion just figured it was you feeling shameful because you had some sort of bloodthirst, but looking at you then, he knew that this was a lot more serious than that.

And sure enough, when you passed out, as soon as your head hit the floor, you were lurching back up as someone else. Still your body, your skin, but it was clear you weren’t in control. Only an hour or so later, once he had you tied up and writhing, did he see a glimpse of apology in your eyes.

“It’s okay, my love. You can get through this. I’ve got you.”

Astarion murmured, but when he moved to brush some sweat-soaked hair from your forehead, you snapped at him, body lunging out to try to bite. Watching you now, it reminded him of the first few days after Cazador had turned him into a vampire, only biting and scratching. Cazador had sent him down for a stay in the dungeons. He knew the feeling of being trapped, a monster, a creature inside of him thirsting for blood.

As he watched you, saw the pain, the sorrow in your eyes as you were helpless but to bite and curse, he saw himself in you. You were scared. Whether it was fear of hurting him, hurting yourself, letting this inner beast take control, he didn't know. But it didn't matter, as he would stay here, stay by your side for as long as you needed him to be.

Now it was morning, you were back to being yourself, and the expression on your face was one Astarion couldn't read.

“You need to explain what that was.”

He said, catching your eyes and holding your gaze strongly. He was sat with one leg stretched out in front of him, the other up, his elbow rested on the knee. You were sat in front of him, your expression an unreadable mix of emotions. He had already decided not to tell you about the deep scratch and bite in his side you had managed to inflict when you weren’t yourself.