I wake from a peaceful sleep for once. One that has soothed my aching bones and quieted my turbulent mind, even if only for a night.
I stir languidly on my spot on the ground, my heavy lids protest to open against the comfort of my bedroll. It is especially comfortable this morning -- especially warm and inviting. I wish to bury my face deeper into its downy, silken caress for a few more moments of blissful sleep. Until it dawns on me that my bedroll by the campfire is neither downy nor silken. Moreover, the rays of morning sun are not beating down on my skin as they should be, not chasing away the coolness of the night with their warmth.
My eyes fly open as memories from last night come flooding back to me. Astarion, drunk on bears blood, pulling me to the ground to lay next to him. And I, too tired to get up after... I... don't tell me I really fell asleep in his tent last night?!
I shoot up on the soft pile of pillows, wide eyes darting around, my hazy vision coming into focus on the familiar red walls of Astarion's tent draped all around me. I can't believe I fell asleep here last night... I can't believe I fell asleep in his arms. The memory sends a shock wave of warmth coursing through my veins, But as I look around now, there is no Astarion next to me where he fell asleep last night. Though I can still sense his presence nearby. He's standing just outside the entrance of the tent, likely reading his novel as he does each morning and evening. I can hear the bustling sounds of camp too; my companions all gathered together around the epicenter for breakfast. They're laughing and chatting amongst each other as they prepare for another long day on the road. I should be out there with them not... not here.
Godsdamn it Astarion! I grit my teeth, cursing under my breath.
He had broken my resolve again last night with those pleading little puppy-dog eyes, and he didn't even bother to wake me in the morning before the others. Now, when they see me come out of his tent they'll think he and I... did something. Although I guess we already did do something, so it wouldn't exactly be a misunderstanding. Still, I'd rather not have everyone in camp believing I was so easily lured by the shallow advances of a pretty man whom I've known for barely a couple of weeks... even if that is exactly what happened.
I push out a long, steady sigh, rubbing the anxiety from my temples in small, circular motions. Maybe I can still sneak out without the others noticing, I think to myself. I know it's a feeble notion, but it's the only one I have.
I rise to my feet with apprehension, my legs still sluggish with sleep as I make my way to the front entrance of the tent. I hesitate for a moment just behind opening, biting my lower lip nervously before my fingers finally move to find the edge of the flap and slowly peel it back. Just a sliver. Just enough for one eye to peer outside. The first thing I see is Astarion's back turned to me, book in hand as I predicted. In the distance my companions are all crowded around the roaring camp fire, seemingly too focused in on each other and their food to let their prying eyes wonder this way.
And thankfully for me, our resident loner Astarion pitched his tent a good distance away from the main bustle of activity like always, so I should be able to sneak right out without ever being noticed by our fellow companions. Easy enough. Now... if I could just quietly slip past the rogue elf himself.
I can do this, I think to myself, even as uncertainty bubbles low in my stomach. I can do this...
Silently I push through the flap of the tent, and make myself as flat as I can with my back pushed against the thin fabric wall. Warm rays of sun trickle down onto my skin as I slip out, and I have to squint my eyes against the light as my vision works to adjust to it. The toe of my boot makes no sound against the dirt as I step outside. The air arrests in my lungs, I don't even dare to breathe. I am as quiet as a mouse. Or so I think.
"Good morning, darling," Astarion practically announces my presence without even looking up from his book, and I nearly jump out of my skin in surprise. Then I freeze in my tracks, only half way past the tent entrance already, completely out in the open.
Several pairs of stunned eyes glance up from the campfire, landing on me in an instant, and suddenly all I want to do is disappear through the ground. If only I was a wizard or a sorcerer, I could cast invisibility on myself and run off to hide in the woods without a trace. But alas, all I can do is stand under their questioning gaze. I can feel my cheeks flush red, my face flustered and guilt-ridden like a thief caught in the act of stealing.
"I hope you slept well," Astarion says, finally looking up at me from the pages of his book, his eyes flashing mischievously. For a brief moment I wonder if he's still drunk on that bear's blood. But no, he seems sober enough now. Knowing him, it's more likely he's just having a bit of fun at my expense.
"I hardly slept at, no thanks to you," I lie, my voice cracking even as I grasp at any last shred of dignity I might still cling to, if there is any left at all. But I realize too late that my words of defiance have only made a worse case for myself.
"Oh ho?" Astarion chuckles. "I must have kept you up all night then." His playful tone makes it sound like some crude innuendo.
"Not like that," I hiss dangerously, pointing my eyes like daggers in his direction. But his lips only curl further into that handsome, devilish smile.
"Hang on just a moment," I can hear Gale speak up from his spot near the campfire. And while I can't find it in myself to meet his gaze, I can still hear the raised eyebrow in his tone. "What exactly is going on here between you two?"
"It's nothing," I lie again, so unconvincingly that I wouldn't even believe myself if I had been on the receiving end of the half-truth. "He came stumbling back into camp late last night. Drunk off his ass, might I add. Tripping all over himself. I was just there to make sure he made it to his tent safely, and didn't find himself getting up to any trouble. Yes, I sat with him. Though he snored so loudly it was impossible to sleep, even if I wanted to."
"Oh, I don't snore, darling," Astarion replies casually, his long lashes fluttering as he lowers his eyes to examine his immaculately clean nails. "I'm an elf, remember? Elves don't sleep, we meditate. If anyone was doing any... snoring last night it would have been be you. Honestly, if you're going to lie to the whole camp, at least be a little more convincing next time."
I feel my blood boiling with red-hot resentment and indignation. If his idea of fun is making a complete mockery of me in front of all our companions, then consider his "fun" had.
"You're a real asshole, you know that?" I spit with venom in my voice before storming away from his tent. I don't even bother to stick around to gauge his reaction - or to let my eyes find their way to the confusion and concern knit on the faces of the rest of my companions. I march over to my bedroll and snatch my armor from my pack, preparing myself for a long morning walk through the forest... alone.
"Aren't you going to have some breakfast?" Wyll's voice of concern is like the distant buzz of a fly in my ear, barely audible above the roaring of my blood and pounding of my heart. I don't acknowledge him. I don't acknowledge the look of genuine worry on his face. The world is a blur of colors mingled with red as I stomp off into the woods, and I am glad when no one comes running after me.
---
Once I've had time to pull on my armor and cool my temper, inklings of logic and reason begin clawing their way back into my head. And with it, a faint sense of guilt begins gnawing at the back of my conscience.
Although it's true that Astarion had been insensitive, and showed no regard for preserving my honor (which, let's face it, is not exactly his forte), hadn't I been the one to throw the first stone? Wasn't I the one who tossed him to the wolves initially, spinning a tale that made him sound like a drunk, bumbling fool to preserve my own dignity? I'm honestly surprised he didn't do worse than insult me.
The worst part is that I don't even know why the whole thing bothered me so much to begin with. I don't know why my sense of dignity mattered to me more than Astarion's feelings in that moment. There's something else going on here... something more than what it appears to be. Something worming its way up to the surface.
I wince as the shard of a memory pierces my brain - something from my shrouded past. Though I can hardly even call it a memory. It's more like a feeling - a knowing. I think... I think I was once someone important. Someone endlessly evil with an empty, black void where a heart should have been, but someone important nonetheless. Someone who would never go around fraternizing with pretty elves. Someone who would never even entertain the idea.
Dizzy from the sudden influx of information, I carefully lower myself onto a large rock behind me and drop my head into my hands. My brain buzzes, flashes of incomplete images shoot through my mind. Images of blood; rivers of blood, piles of bodies hacked apart into unrecognizable lumps of flesh. I see conquest, and a throne. But the images are all fragmented and out of sequence. I can make sense of none of it.
"There you are."
The sudden voice comes from somewhere nearby and I swing my head in its direction, my heart pounding at the thought that it might be Astarion coming to look for me. But the voice is too gentle to be his, and when my eyes land on the face of Wyll, something akin to disappointment settles into my chest. Why? Astarion is the last person I want to see right now... isn't he?
My quivering lips part, and his name passes through them as a shaky breath of air. "Wyll... what are you doing here?"
"I figured that was obvious," he chuckles. "I was looking for you. O-On behalf of the party, of course." He clears his throat. "You stormed off into the woods without a word, and haven't returned in some time... We were all getting ready to hit the road again before the day wears on."
"Right..." I sigh, looking down at the toes of my boots. "I didn't realize I'd been gone so long. I just needed to get some air. To think."
"Don't we all," Wyll smiles weakly, coming to sit on the rock next to me. "Unfortunately, time is not on our side at present, my friend. Not with these tadpoles in our heads. He have to find a cure, and soon. There's no time for distractions. No time for... whatever's going on between you and Astarion-"
"There's nothing going on between us," I cut him off too quickly, anxious that he's already gotten the wrong idea about us as I had feared. Sure, Astarion and I had sex but that was all it was. A random night of passion. It didn't mean anything, least of all to Astarion. I'll never forget that distant look in his eyes after we'd finished. The way he stared at the stars as he disassociated, his mind traveling leagues away from me in that moment. He never even looked at me.
"Last night... we didn't do anything," I say, when Wylls eyes probe mine for a deeper answer. "Honestly. Astarion really was drunk... not on alochol... on bear's blood I guess? Don't ask, because I have no idea. Anyway, I was just watching out for him. Nothing else happened."
"That's good to hear," Wyll says with relief.
"And don't worry about our little tiff earlier this morning," I add. "I won't let a small argument become a distraction. I know what's at stake here, and it's bigger than our fight... bigger than any of our problems."
"I'm happy you feel that way," Wyll's lips tug into a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "In that case, let me walk you back to camp. The others are waiting."
I stand to my feet, straightening my armor and turn to offer Wyll a smile. "Lead the way."