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ASTARION POV

Tricky thing about the beasties they had been fighting, they didn't have the kind of blood he could actually drink. It not only tasted foul, but it made him ill and clearly did nothing for his vampiric side. Troublesome. And now the Wizard needed to camp. Another night without actual blood to sustain. And as much as Shadowheart's cooking was palatable, it didn't help that deep groaning need in Astarion's belly. His strength had started to sap a little. And in such a place as that, he couldn't risk it.

And as they camped down and he was left on watch, his eyes trailed to Amaya as she slept. Peaceful. Serene. Beautiful. And so pink-cheeked it made his mouth water. He looked to the surrounding area again, eyes fixed on the shadows and teeth grinding hard. Don't think about it. Don't. He clasped his hands tightly around the hilt of his dagger and concentrated on the bite of the metal against his palm. It had only been a couple of days. He could control himself. He could. Of course he could. Though really it was the longest he had ever gone without a feed without it being a punishment, and at least in those circumstances there was usually agonising pain to distract from the hunger. But not now. He was at camp, fairly safe (all things considered), and simply keeping watch. So all he could think of was potential threats beyond the shadows and that gnawing want. He sipped water. Didn't help. He chewed some left over dinner, picking at it little by little. Didn't help.

Amaya moved in her sleep, now laying on her back, facing towards the fire – having preferred to not be alone that night, which was sweet in some ways, and maddening in the current ones. With her head angled like that he could see the beautiful line of her elegant neck, the slight flutter of her pulse point as her heart beat steadily. Again, Astarion swallowed hard. No, he didn't want to slink over there and tuck her hair behind her pointed ears, watching her pulse beat like a small bird's wing. No, he didn't wish to lean in and breathe deeply against the crook of her slender, elegant neck, to know that scent deep in his lungs – she always smelled like spices to him, like some delicately balanced spicy pastry of some kind. He hadn't figured out which yet. No. Stop it. No, he didn't wish to kiss that supple flesh, to once again feel its warmth against his chilled lips, to lick along that dancing pulsepoint, the delectable scent of her blood drowning his eager senses. No, he didn't want to give one more swipe of his tongue before his teeth grazed her tender flesh and pierced through to–

Schlink.

Oh shit.

A blade pressed against his throat. Reality snapped back into place; the crackling of the fire, the feeling of the stony ground under his braced hands, and piercing eyes glaring up at him. Oh shit.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She hissed at him, low enough not to wake the others, but harsh enough to send cold shivers down his spine. One wrong move, and he would be dead.

Shit. He had been completely lost to his day-dreaming and had nearly bitten her? His hunger ached in his gut and his arms shook as he held himself over her, the drag of her blade's edge at his throat warning him to stay very still indeed. And yet still, that scent made his mouth water.

He swallowed hard. "I… I…"

"Sit back." She snarled and he did so, her sitting up to match him and keep the blade firmly where it was. "Explain yourself, or I wake them all right now. Move, and I gut you."

"Shit." He cursed himself and his weakness. It was the last way he had hoped to admit such a thing, but there it was, he had to or else she'd never trust him again. And with good reason. Waking to someone about to bite you? It hardly looked promising. "Alright, I'll explain. Please."

"This is your chance." She murmured, knife steady. "And if you lie, I swear I'll–"

"No, no – It's not what it looks like I swear." He spoke in the same hushed whisper, but his voice shook with nerves. He had to make her understand. To think that this would be what made her turn away from him? A stupid moment of weakness when he had always been so careful. In their time together in Baldur's Gate he had never slipped up. Not once. "I wasn't going to hurt you! I just needed – well… Blood."

"Blood."

He nodded.

She clicked her tongue. "Y'mean like a vampire, for example?" She raised a brow and he got the distinct feeling she had already suspected such a thing. Well, he hadn't exactly been all that subtle when they found the boar. His heckles had been so far up he half expected to look back on the memory and find himself hissing like a cornered cat. She sighed. "Fuckin' knew it. We even found that boar on the road, all drained and… That was you right? Wasn't it? You got all cagey about it and everything. Thought I was being paranoid…"

"Yes. You're right. I… I feed on animals. Boars, deer – whatever I can get."

"And that now includes me?"

"N-No! I just… I…" He felt the leaden weight of his limbs, the ache of his mind, the burn in his veins. He had to be honest. She said no lies, and in that moment, he didn't want them either. "But we've been down here for days, and I didn't get a chance t-to feed before we came down. Not right before, at least. I feel sluggish, slow… weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better."

And it was true, aside from the physical discomfort, it also made him very aware of his slip-up. A foot wrong there, an angle just incorrect on that shot, a knife a bit too slow. It had been fine so far, but there would be a moment when it wouldn't. When that small fraction of incapability cost them dear.

She eyed him and clicked her tongue. "Show me."

He blinked. "What?"

She tapped her temple with her free hand. "Show me."

He swallowed and looked down for a moment, shivering as he considered opening his mind to someone, to being that utterly vulnerable. But it wasn't without reason. This was her giving him a real chance. Anyone else might have already attacked. Might have banished him on the spot. But she was letting him explain, even allowing him to show her the truth of it. He opened his mind and let the feeling of hunger flow to her, the sensations of desperation, hunger, and the gradual decline of his strength.

Focusing on those things, he also felt the warmth of her mind as she connected. As much as her blood reminded him of spiced pastry, her mind felt like something warm as well. Like a blanket after a chilled breeze hits you the wrong way. Comforting. Dependable. But also sturdy and useful as well. And in that moment, he sensed her fear, her suspicion, but also a curiosity. A want to help. She cared. He stayed firm on his own focus, avoiding the temptation to follow her caring. To know why she felt that towards him. Had she begun to feel… Don't think of it. Not right now. Focus!

As they came back from the parasite connection, she looked a little queasy. "Why didn't you tell me before this?"

For a sickening moment he thought she had gleaned he was hiding what he knew, that she had discovered he had known her before all of this. But no. She meant the vampirism. And then he couldn't help the small smile. As if that bothered her more than anything else, that he hadn't confided in her, more bothersome than almost biting her. He continued to struggle to understand.

He huffed a breathless laugh. "At best, I was sure you'd say no. More likely, you'd ram a stake through my ribs." Then he drew a long breath. "I needed you to trust me. And… And you can trust me."

Once again those eyes studied him, and he knew she was seeing far more of him than he wanted. But it was hardly his first time under her scrutiny. Other times it had been after one too many wines. When her questions became more intense, her gaze more fixed, and she wasn't so on guard about looking away or checking surroundings. Some had been in the wake of a glorious tumble between the sheets, and as she basked in the afterglow, she would study him, trace the planes of his face with her fingertips, and her mind would rumble away behind coffee-coloured eyes. But of course, in the present, she didn't know any of that. She had no concept of all that they had shared. Not yet anyway. Again, part of him pleaded with her to remember. And yet another part wished she remained ignorant. Remembering would mean she knew all the wonderful moments they had shared, but it would also call into question his own actions… and inaction since.

"Alright. That all makes sense," she nodded, "and I can accept that it's not what you intended. But… Well first of all, yes you were going to hurt me, you were going to bite me."

His eyes dipped again. "Fair."

"But why were you biting me without warning, though?" She asked and the way her voice softened made him jolt a little. Concern had taken over suspicion. He looked back into her eyes and found that warmth once again. There had been hints before, but nothing to that degree, the same degree he had seen in Baldur's Gate, on their many long evenings together. Was he truly earning the means to walk that path with her again? To pick up that bond? She frowned and tilted her head. "Astarion?"

He looked to the mouth of their little alcove. "It's never happened before, I swear, but I got distracted and sort of… Well…. I uh, rather just found myself over you."

She blinked. "Like it was out of your control?"

He winced. "Well that sounds damning."

"No, I…" She trailed and the knife eased at his throat a little, still right beside it, but no longer actually against his skin. Something else entered her gaze, and he hated that it was understanding. "Remember the squirrel?"

"At the grove?"

She nodded, lips pursed.

He raised a brow. "Yes. Bit hard to forget someone booting a squirrel for no apparent… reason…" his voice drifted as her expression sombered. "Something similar?"

"Let's just say I can empathise as well as sympathise." She scrunched her eyes closed for a moment and shook her head before fixing him with that gaze again, scrutiny and determination. "Alright, I believe you and I trust you."

"Thank you." He breathed, sitting back as the tension rolling out with the breath. But then he felt that twinge again in his throat, that ache in every muscle. He hadn't been lying, he was in trouble with the lack of blood he had drank recently. "Do you think you could trust me a little further?"

She eyed him.

He held his hands up, palm forward. "I only need a taste, I swear."

"Doesn't that risk me becoming a vamp?"

"No, actually," he cleared his throat. "I would have to be more than a Spawn for that to be the case. I'm not a full Vampire, you see."

"Ah. Alright… Thank you for clarifying."

No judgement, no pity, just understanding. She would never cease to amaze him.

She clicked her tongue. "And without drinking you'll be in that kind of pain until we resurface?"

Again, the words stalled him. He had only intended to show the hunger, not the pain. But she had seen past it, hadn't she? Once again peering behind the mask whether he liked it or not. And as much as the instinct to bluster, to refuse the suggestion of weakness, reared its head in his mind, he pushed it aside. Not now. Not with her. She had recognised the pain, but she did not pity it, she did not think less of him for it. She simply wished to help. Maddening.

"I didn't intend for you to know that bit, I apologise if that came through."

"I looked. So you will?"

"Well… Yes."

She nodded and looked towards the tents where the others were sleeping. Not much of a cry out would rouse them. She took a long breath in, and a long breath out, no doubt questioning her own sanity for even considering it. But then she smirked and tilted her head to him again. "Alright. But not more than you need, got it, Pretty Boy?"

"Thank you." He laughed again, relief rushing over him. "Really."

"Mm, don't make me regret it."

"Please lie down, make yourself comfortable." He gestured to her bedroll and she laid back, setting her head upon the pillow, looking towards the fire, the light once again dancing along her supple skin.

Beautiful. He had to take a second to compose himself, the moment unfolding before him so suddenly after their conversation. His first drink from a person. Not a beast. Not vermin. No. A person, and a kind, stunning one at that. His heart clenched. He braced on either side of her, trying to stay steady. Don't hurt her. Don't. And he lowered himself slowly, biting down carefully but swiftly to avoid too much pain.

She jolted beneath him, her breath catching and her pulse suddenly racing as danger spiked through her senses.

But then her reactions fell away from him.

There was nothing beyond the blood.

He groaned, overwhelmed by the taste.

No wine could compare. No fine vintage, or delicate balance of fruity notes could outdo such a delectable nectar. A moan burned in his throat, and he found himself automatically holding her closer, cradling her almost as he drank. And drank deeply. Before that moment he had only ever drunk from animals, from boars, deer, and when in Cazador's pens, putrid rats. Now, he had true bliss at his lips. He was enthralled. Ravenous. Desperate to know it and remember it.

The cavern fell away, the nautiloid, the journey, the task at hand. None of it mattered. All that did was those ruby droplets flooding his mouth, swathing over his tongue, soothing every moment of uncertainty and caressing every aching nerve.

More.

Make it all stop, please. The pain, the hunger, the weakness and inability to fight back against that iron will. Yes. The blood made it all seem so possible. Freedom. True freedom to live his life, enjoy his life upon that earth.

Please.

More.

AMNE POV

After that initial shock of ice cold pain, it was strange… Warm even. Like I'd sunk into a perfectly poured bath that enveloped me in the loveliest numbness possible. Worries floated away. Troubles melted. Cares trickled to nothing. And I lay there, cradled in his arms, held stronger as he groaned against my skin, feeling oddly safe. Safe? What madness. It made no sense at all. But as my strength faded, and my mind sluggishly registered that worrying fact – something else stepped in as well. A familiarity. As if I had been in this sort of situation before. Not necessarily biting, but intimacy for sure. Not Astarion of course, we hadn't known each other before the crash, but someone had held me like this. Desperately. Strongly. As if being another inch away from me would be painful. Their voice husking against my skin, our pulses both raised, bodies seeking one another out. And the memory shone for me. Like a freshly lit candle. Wow. It was beautiful. Someone had truly wanted me, pleased me, made me feel every kind of pleasurable inclination. Bliss. Their soft hair against my cheek, their hips rolling against mine, my nerves singing with joy as we tumbled towards those pinnacle moments. Gods. I guess this was why they called it a Bloodlust. I'm tingling from head to toe.

And I'm still getting weaker.

So much weaker…

Shit.

Adrenaline spiked in my heart as I felt my breathing wane, my mind ripping away from those foggy memories of intimacy as I realised Astarion was going too far. I tried to call out his name, but my breaths were so weak. Not a sound escaped. He held so tight. Too tight. A whimper escaped him – broken, desperate. Shit. He'd lost control. He had no idea he was draining me, did he? I tried to move, my arm mercifully free. Okay. Grab your sword. It's there. Just… Just there… Aha! I clasped the hilt and my eyes rolled back as another wave of exhaustion pushed against me, encouraging me to let go and simply sleep. But no. I c-can't. Not yet. I heaved the suddenly impossibly heavy weapon up and angled it towards Astarion. C'mon. Hold on. It's this or die. The idiot will feel terrible I reckon.

Move!

One quick jab with the point and he recoiled with a hiss, lips pulled back over those pearled fangs, still dripping with my blood. I caught his attention at least. My hand fell back to the ground. The sword went CLANG. And like the ringing of a bell, he blinked. Like he'd woken from a nap. He blinked again, looking around himself. Then he saw me. And then his eyes went wide as he came back to himself. My vision paled.

I choked on the air. "Fuck… You…"

And my eyes rolled back, my body numb as my breaths rattled, struggling.

"No. No, no, no." He garbled, voice thick with confusion, clarifying into panic. "No! Shit, I'm sorry. Shit. Shadowheart! Help! No, no, open your eyes, damn it, look at me, would you? I didn't mean– This wasn't meant to– SHADOWHEART get up! Please don't. Please don't go. Don't."

"What's happening?" I vaguely heard a groggy Shadowheart approaching and then I heard her gasp. My muscles ached deeply. My mind wavered. Footsteps ran over. My heart stuttered. "What the hells did you do? Get away from her this second. Move!"

"Please, I'll explain, just heal her. You can, can't you?"

"Hopefully, you fucking animal." She snapped, and I felt hands hover over the bite mark. Then a warmth appeared. It sunk into my neck, seeping through my frozen veins. I tried to speak. To reassure her, but I was powerless. I concentrated on dragging air into my lungs.

Astarion…

You idiot…

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