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It had become an unspoken thing between them, a little secret hidden in the darkest parts of the night. Some nights, it was a glance given from across the campfire, firelight dancing in her eyes as they locked with his. Others, it was pause just outside of her tent, a nearly imperceptible nod of her head before she disappeared inside.
And then it was just a matter of waiting. Waiting until the fire burned down to embers, and the others had all tucked themselves away for the night. Ameera was always asleep by that point, and Astarion was always careful to never wake her. He would cradle her cheek in his hand and bury himself into her neck.
She always let out the sweetest sounds when he did so…
Come morning, he would be stronger, and she would be no worse for wear. The marks were always gone come dawn. He was sure she used her druidic magic. As much as he would enjoy seeing his mark on her, he understood. Easier to keep it their little secret that way.
That was before the shadow-cursed lands…
There was no hunting for him here. There was nothing alive to hunt. The darkness was suffocating, even to one such as him, who had known nothing but darkness for the last two centuries. This ravaged land was decayed, filled with a blighted sickness.
The effect it had on everyone was obvious, but none seemed to feel it as much as his druid. There was a sickly pallor about her, and her green eyes seemed to dull. A quiet despair wrapped around her, weighing down her every step. And yet, on a night when they finally managed to find a place to rest, he could see the firelight in her eyes as she looked over to him.
At the darkest time of night, Astarion slipped into her tent, and kneeled over her sleeping form. He studied her face, at the lines that etched across her forehead and the frown on her lips. This was not a peaceful sleep. Fitting. They weren’t in a peaceful place.
His fingertips caressed the side of her face, and she sighed softly at the touch. The lines faded as he cupped her cheek, her skin almost feverish under his cold hand. Turning her head gently, he exposed the curve of her neck, and stopped in his tracks.
There were still marks there, the remnant of his last feeding. She had always healed them. Why hadn’t she this time?
He took in her sleeping profile again. There were dark circles under her eyes, and an almost gaunt appearance to the hollows beneath her cheekbones. She looked sick. How had he not noticed this before? It was so plainly obvious. Moving to gently grasp her chin in his hand, he slowly turned her face towards him. A pang of guilt pierced him, the unfamiliar feeling causing him to recoil. This cursed land was sapping her, and yet here she was, letting him partake of her lifeblood.
Godsdamned woman.
Astarion pulled away. He would find another way to sate his hunger. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach, and he grimaced. This… he shouldn’t care. He needed to be strong, and she needed him strong! That was their arrangement; their little secret. Leaning in again, he pressed his face into her neck, ready to bite, ready to feed. Beneath his lips he could feel the barely healed punctures from last time. There was that stupid guilt again, rising up like bile. Ugh.
Softly, he kissed her neck before pulling away. He would let her sleep tonight, untouched, and come back another night. Turning away as he stood, he parted the flaps of her tent.
“Astarion?” The sleep-filled voice whispered from behind, stopping him in his tracks. He turned around, confronted by hazy eyes that seemed to see both into the dream and the waking world.
“Ah, I’m sorry darling, I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”
Slowly, Ameera sat up in her bedroll. One hand tentatively touched her neck, and confusion flitted across her face. “You didn’t feed?”
“I’m not all that hungry, turns out.” He watched her eyebrows furrow together at his lie.
“But…”
With a gesture from him, she fell silent. “No buts, my dear. Sleep now, and we’ll do this again another night.” Astarion turned again to leave.
“Wait.” She called to his back, a near imperceptible touch of desperation in her voice. In spite of himself, he paused. He waited. “Will you stay with me? For a little while at least?”
He looked back down at her over his shoulder. “You… want me to stay? Darling, as much as I enjoy our late night trysts, this is hardly the time for-“
“Not like that.” She quickly interrupted him. “I just…” Looking away, she shook her head. “Nevermind.” A meager smile given to him, a vulnerability hidden away.
Vulnerable. That was not a word he had ever associated with the druid. Even when naked and writhing beneath him, she had never been vulnerable. And yet, now… This place must have deeply affected her; a fact he had only just begun to realize.
“Good night, Astarion.” Her words broke through his thoughts, and he watched her lay down and roll to her side, facing away from him.
Standing with only the thin sheet of fabric separating him from his escape into the night, he cursed himself silently as he let the fabric fall from his grasp. Awkwardly he sank down onto the bedroll until he lay on his side beside her. Wrapping an arm around her waist, Astarion felt the druid tense at the touch, yet she let him pull her flush against him. Burying his face into her hair, he felt as she relaxed into him, tension easing away. It wasn’t long before her breathing evened out, and her heartbeat slowed.
A small favor. That was all this was.
Nothing more…