In the years Astarion had lived under Cazador's rule, he had grown intimately familiar with the painful pang of hunger constantly gnawing at him from the inside out. He had grown used to surrounding himself with people, alive, dozens of heartbeats tempting him to just one bite without being able to indulge. It had not been his choice, of course, he physically could not go against his mas- his former master's wish, but the almost two centuries of torment had left him with a self-control of steel.

In the time Astarion had been camping with this strange ragtag group of worm carriers he had sustained himself on birds, squirrels and other small prey. It didn't sate him, but it was enough to avoid starving to death and enough to keep the edge off so he didn't completely lose control of himself.

At least it was at first.

The thing was. Astarion was quickly learning that there was a difference between surviving on vermin while he was chained to a wall and surviving on vermin while walking all day up and down mountains and fighting for his life. The latter was a lot more demanding on energy, and Astarion found the hunger pangs had become increasingly harder to ignore.

He needed bigger prey. Something heartier, the kind of prey that took time to hunt but would satisfy him for longer. He needed a bear or a boar.

A nagging part of him wondered how it'd be like to drink from one of his traveling companions. A thinking creature. He'd fantasized about it many times, imagining how rich their blood must taste, how it felt like to be sated and now with the tadpole in his brain and Cazador's hold on him broken, the temptation was nearly impossible to resist. What if he tried? What if I succeeded? What if there was nothing stopping him from feeding on thinking creatures?

He could not let them know though, not yet. They would know eventually, it was not something he could hide forever, and every day Astarion wondered what would be a good moment to make his great reveal. But for their first brush with his vampirism to be Astarion trying to bite one of them? He'd be dead before he managed to leave the camp's boundaries. No, he had to figure out another way to tell the truth.

So for now he waited for night to come, quiet in his tent as one by one everyone went to sleep. He waited until silence had fallen over the camo and only then he got up from his bedroll and snuck away into the forest.

The small patches of trees provided good cover as he stalked through the uneven, rocky path. His ears were attentive to the noises around him, paying attention to the rustle of leaves for signs of something he could feast on.

A couple of hours must have passed, all Astarion heard were bats and rats skittering around, but eventually he heard it: scrapping on dirt, the grunts of an animal, steps heavy enough to tell him it was something big.

A fat boar stood near some old walls, scratching itself against tree bark, grunting and snorting, completely oblivious to the predator watching its every movement.

Astarion felt his mouth water, he could hear the even heartbeat of the beast, pumping warm blood through its veins. He could almost taste it on his tongue. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his instincts before he lost himself in his bloodlust, he needed to catch his prey first.

He stalked closer, daggers in hand, each step making almost no noise as he approached. The boar didn't turn around, it was completely oblivious to Astarion until it was far too late. He jumped at the animal, it let out a squeal of surprise as it tried to use its tusks to defend itself, but Astarion was expecting it, he dodge it, using the momentum to turn it on its back before he bit down on the creature's neck.

The warm, metallic taste filled his mouth, the delicious smell assaulted his senses, drowning the natural stink from the boar's fur. Astarion bit down harder as the boar struggled to break free and he drank the blood like a man dying in a desert. It was bliss, he felt himself grow stronger with each mouthful, and the boar's heartbeat got weaker and weaker each second.

The boar eventually stopped moving, the blood flow eventually slowed down to a trickle and Astarion dropped the now drained corpse carelessly on the ground. He took the time to lick the blood from his hands and most of what had ended staining his face, not one drip should be wasted.

It was the best meal Astarion has had in a long, long time, he felt stronger, the desperate need to feed had been abated for now. Deep in his gut though, there was still that gnawing feeling, the hunger for more. If another boar was presented to him right now, he would gladly suck it dry as well. He was a starving vampire, and after the boar he had become a somewhat less starved vampire.

He was still hungry though.

Day would come in only a few hours, he couldn't let the others know he had left. Moss would rouse from their trance soonish, Astarion didn't have the time to find another boar or similarly large prey.

He returned to the slumbering camp, though the unblinking stare of the skeleton they had unearthed from an ancient crypt let him know he hadn't been as quiet as he would have liked. Withers didn't say anything though, and Astarion didn't need to explain his actions to someone who was more dead than himself.

Maybe he should've dragged the corpse somewhere more hidden. Maybe he should've burned it. Maybe he should've done literally anything else other than leaving the dead boar at the entrance of the village the group was heading towards.

Astarion did none of that, so inevitably the carcass was found.

"Is it dead enough for you?" Astarion asked Moss, his tone coming out way more snappish than he intended. He had his arms crossed and expression kept carefully neutral as the sorcerer inspected the dead boar with way more interest than it was warranted.

"Do you see this? The little holes on its neck? " Moss said with a voice full of curiosity and zero trepidation. Years of experience under Cazador's abuse at any hint of imperfection in his mannerisms was the only thing that kept Astarion from squirming.

It was close though, he stood a few steps away from Moss, stiff as a tree, his head held high and frozen in place. They would find out, the entire party would find out his little secret. He should've told them sooner, maybe if he had told the truth before he was found out, the group would have an easier time accepting it.

"You knooooow something, don't you?" Moss asked Astarion after the silence had gone for a little too long, their voice had that sing-song tone that Astarion usually thought was hilarious, but only when it was directed at someone who was not him. "You look like you do. What is it? Should I be worried?"

He had to say something. He sighed theatrically, taking the moment to make sure his voice would be smooth and confident. "It has been drained of blood. By a vampire. I didn't want to alarm you. They are ferocious creatures, you know? But don't worry, I'll keep watch tonight, if you want. We really should get going though, gawking at the corpse won't bring it back."

"Vampire uh? Never met one before. I hear they are quite striking looking. A beauty to behold as much as they are deadly." Moss wouldn't look away from Astarion as they said that, and for one crazy moment he thought they knew the truth already. Astarion went very still, holding his breath as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

"They'll eat you up in your sleep too." Wyll said with a laugh, cutting the tension he didn't even realize was there, and Astarion could suddenly breathe again as Moss turned his attention to the other man. "So please, do not try to meet one for the thrill of it, we still need you."

"Far from us to ruin your fun. But a vampire ain't it, mate." Karlach added with a laugh.

"You're no fun." Moss pouted playfully, the boar was finally left alone to rot. "Fine, fine. Lets go then, I see goblins ready to ambush us. We wouldn't want to make them wait, it'd be rude!"

Just like that, crisis averted, for now, but Astarion couldn't shake the tension from his shoulders as he followed behind everyone else. He wasn't sure if he had done that great of a job hiding his nervousness, he only knew that perhaps he should avoid sneaking out to hunt big game in the near future. Maybe birds and squirrels weren't that bad of an option.

For now he hoped the goblins would pick a fight, stabbing something would make him feel so much better.

A/N: To the one person who left a review, you're sweet 3 thank you so much.