The pale light of the moon filters through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. Astarion stirs in his sleep, his body instinctively reaching for you. But his hand finds only cool sheets where your warmth should be. His eyes blink open, groggy, and confused, a small frown tugging at his lips as he realizes you’ve slipped away from his embrace.

“Darling?” His voice is thick with sleep, soft and almost whiny, as his hand weakly reaches out into the empty space beside him. His fingers stretch, searching. “Where did you go?”

He shifts slightly, his body moving toward the edge of the bed, his senses half-aware, still clinging to the remnants of a dream. His hand brushes your arm as you sit just out of reach. “Don’t leave me,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle plea. “Come back… please.”

His other arm lifts, draping over your waist in a slow, tired movement, pulling you back toward him with surprising strength for someone so lethargic. “I don’t like it when you’re not here,” he says softly, the words nearly lost in a yawn. He nestles against you, his face pressing into the curve of your neck. “It’s too cold without you.”