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The night was tense, suffocating. Astarion watched her carefully, both to ensure that she was alright and to make sure that she wouldn't turn murderous again and end him here.
He chuckled to himself at the dark humor of it. They always say 'don't judge a book by it's cover', and for awhile the adage was proven right: here was this tiny half-drow, eyes the blood-red that signified the Lolth-sworn faction of her people with many piercings around her face and tattoos that danced along her features. And despite being a rather fearsome-looking and powerful sorceress, Melphie surprised everyone she met by being one of the most sickeningly sweet people Astarion had ever the misfortune to stumble across. She made them stop and help every single blasted soul they met, felt the need to coo at all the furry forest creatures, she had been nauseating when he had first met her. He had even considered going his own way at first, but he had seen her prowess in battle and felt he should hedge his bets.
And then Alfira had come.
Melphie had mentioned to everyone before that she was plagued with dark, terrible and violent thoughts. Astarion had the suspicion that the rest of their group, like him, didn't believe she was seriously thinking of gruesome murder--not when she was so kind.
And when the tiefling bard had shown up insisting that she join their company, Melphie had instantly agreed, Astarion rolled his eyes, and the night went on as usual. Then the next morning he had awoken to a very dead Alfira, and a very distraught Melphie being interrogated by Shadowheart. Everyone in camp had made eye contact with each other as their sorceress cried at her carnage, suddenly understanding that she was indeed a real threat--to them all, not just their enemies.
Until recently, she had been keeping her urges under control--no one had been brutally murdered outside of their typical fighting. Astarion had noticed her looking more sickly within the past tenday, but had chalked it up to her over-exerting herself trying to help all the people in these cursed lands.
But now he realized that it was over-exertion from trying to restrain herself. And it had all culminated a few hours before, when he had been resting peacefully. His bones ached from trekking through a forge in the Underdark and into the cursed lands, and he was hoping to catch up on some rest before he asked Melphie if she would indulge him a little nibble before she went to sleep. He had been thinking about how sweet her blood would taste, when she shook him rather roughly and peered down at him.
"Oh, hello. Looking for a cuddle?" he had asked cheekily. When she didn't answer, he noticed the pure panic in her eyes and frowned. "Although, you don't look entirely yourself. What's going on in that head of yours?"
Melphie scooted back a bit, noticeably keeping her distance from him. "You...you're in a lot of danger. We need to act fast," she sounded out of breath, and he realized she was breathing like she had sprinted from the Grove to their camp.
"All right, talk quickly then," he said, though his brow quirked at her words. He was in danger? And what was wrong with her that she sounded like she couldn't breathe?
He had watched carefully as she gasped in pain, slapping a hand to her forehead before looking back at him. "I--I think that whatever monster is possessing me is coming back...the beast that murdered Alfira..." she was fully struggling to get the words out now, "And now I'm going to kill the person I care most about: you, when I fall asleep. And I need you to stop me."
Astarion had felt so many things in the span of seconds: first, he felt a flutter in his chest when she told him that he was who she cared most for. Second, he had a pit in his stomach at the implication that he was the next victim of brutality, and his mind flashed to the poor bard. Lastly, he felt a pang as he watched the half-drow struggle through what seemed to be agonizing pain in her head. He had no response, but he opened his mouth anyway. "How flattering. And disturbing."
He had leaned forward, "You could have talked to me before things got murderously bad, you know. We technically are in this together," he admonished gently, but she had continued to shrink away from him and into herself. "Whatever it is that's controlling you, we can fight it. I know that better than anyone," he had tried to reassure her.
She had been gasping, watching him with her eyes wide and scared, and in horror Astarion watched as they rolled back in her head and she collapsed on the ground. He sprang up and ran to his tent--he had maybe minutes.
He had tied her hands behind her and left her on the ground, too afraid to move all her weight in case she sprung awake that moment, then watched as Melphie--no, the monster awoke and began to gnash and throw herself every which way. He had seen her eyes, and whatever he had grown used to seeing had been replaced with cold, lifeless bloodlust. Astarion hoped that Melphie was still in there somewhere and he had talked her though it, assuring her that he was there, he was not going to leave her. None of them were.
Eventually the monster had retreated, and Melphie fell motionless once more. Astarion hadn't moved, instead watching her form warily.
Finally, after hours of laying there and what he supposed was around dawn, she began to stir. "Astarion...?" Her eyes met his, and he once again saw the warmth in them he had come to know. Relief flooded him as she struggled to sit up. His Melphie was back to them.
He cut her bindings with his dagger before returning to his seat before her. She flinched as she held her raw and tender wrists, and looked up at the vampire.
"Now that you're back with us, we need to have a talk," he said in a gently teasing tone. Melphie looked back at her wrists, one of them starting to bleed, and she covered the wound with her thumb. She inhaled a shuddering breath as she looked back up at Astarion.
"I...I've told you before about the violent thoughts. These...urges. And you saw what happened with Alfira..." her voice trailed off as she sniffed, trying to hold down a sob. "The most awful part about it is, when I get these thoughts of killing, there's a part of me that wants it, almost revels in it. It...scares me so, so much Astarion," she looked back up at him and he saw tears streaming down her cheeks. "I don't want to hurt anyone, least of all my friends."
He just watched her as she bowed her head again, trying desperately not to sob but her shoulders were shaking with the effort. Astarion wanted it to stop, he didn't want to see her cry. Someone as sweet as her didn't deserve to cry.
"You're not alone in this," he said softly. Her head snapped up and she looked at him with wide eyes. "None of us are. We can even compare notes, if you like," he joked. When she didn't smile, he leaned forward, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees.
Melphie looked absolutely devastated. He could sense the old familiar feeling radiating off of her--self-hatred. He fought to keep his features from twisting into a frown, lest he upset her more. He felt terribly sad for her.
"I...you...you're allowed to hate me for this," she whispered, and Astarion felt what was left of his undead heart break. He couldn't imagine hating her, not Melphie. He sighed and sat up.
"I don't hate you. Because this is not you," he reached out and lifted her chin gently with a finger in order to get her to look at him. Her eyes were shining with tears. "But whatever this is, you will get through it. And I'll be here to make sure you do."
Melphie's eyes widened and she gave another sniff before nodding and giving him a weak smile. Astarion returned the smile and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb before standing. "Now, let's get you to Shadowheart and fix you up."
He held out his hand for her and pulled her to her feet before walking her over to Shadowheart's tent. They heard her moving around inside, and Astarion lifted the flap. "Good morning!"
"And morning to you--Oh gods! Come here!" Shadowheart sat Melphie on her bedroll and dropped to her knees, hands glowing blue. "What did you do to her?" she turned and shot Astarion an accusatory glare.
"Excuse me? I didn't touch her, if anything I'm the victim here!" He held up both hands, and flinched as the words tumbled out his mouth. He watched Melphie shrink in on herself and he closed his eyes in irritation at himself.
"No Shadowheart, he's right. He didn't do anything to me, rather...I almost..." she gripped her arms, but steeled herself and forced the words out, "I almost killed him."
The cleric froze and looked between Astarion and Melphie. "It was the beast that killed the bard," Astarion's voice was serious, and Shadowheart nodded, understanding immediately.
"Well, it seems you were unsuccessful in that venture," she said after a minute as she healed Melphie's wrists. After she was done healing all the other small cuts and bruises, she held Melphie's hands, "I know you have your personal demons to contend with. But if I didn't make it clear before, I think you can beat this. Just don't give in, and seek help when you need it."
Melphie nodded, "Thank you." She threw her arms around Shadowheart, who returned the embrace after a second's hesitation.
"Astarion, make sure she eats something this morning," the cleric looked up at him as the two women let go.
"Why do I have to? Do I look like her keeper?"
Shadowheart chose to ignore it, "Just make sure she's strong enough to continue today. These lands are nothing to laugh about."
"Come on, Astarion. I am a little hungry," the half-drow said sheepishly. Astarion clicked his tongue and led Melphie out of the tent and over to where Gale was starting to cook up a porridge by the fire. She was quiet this morning, not up to her usual chatter and Astarion found himself being the one constantly answering the others' questions about what was wrong.
Everyone in the group assured Melphie at breakfast that they were there for her and were proud of her for fighting the urges. She said nothing but a small 'thanks' and kept her eyes glued to her porridge, spoon stirring absentmindedly.
"My dear, please make sure you eat something or Shadowheart will ram a stake through me," Astarion sighed.
"Sorry," she whispered, and she ate a small spoonful. "This is very delicious, Gale."
"Thank you! Astarion's right, this will help you keep up your strength. The air around here is nasty, and I'd hate for you to be caught up in it because you weren't a hundred percent," Gale smiled warmly. Melphie returned it with a small smile of her own.
"Thank you, guys. I promise that I will be the person you all see in me," she looked around at everyone now gathered around the fire with her. "You don't know how much it means to me that you all want to stay."
"I'll be damned if I let anything happen to you, soldier," Karlach gestured to her. "You may have violence inside you, but you have a heart of pure diamond and that's who you really are to me."
"To us," Wyll interjected, raising his bowl in salute. "If it weren't for you, I don't think many of us would work together as well as we do. Your kindness is what brings all of us together, and though you are a very powerful mage in your own right I think I can speak for most of us when I say you give us something to protect and fight for."
Everyone around her murmured in agreement, even Astarion. "You guys," Melphie's eyes began to well again, but this time her chest felt warm and full instead of hollow. "I...don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything, just finish your breakfast," Astarion retorted. "Are you okay now, darling?" he added a little more gently.
"I am, thank you," Melphie smiled up at him so sweetly that he needed to look away, clearing his throat.
"Good, because I need to pack up my things. I'll pack yours too, so you conserve your energy for whatever we may be facing out there today," he said awkwardly, quickly getting up after patting her leg.
"You don't need--" but he was already walking away towards his tent, running a hand through his hair.
"Let him, it's not often you see Astarion be selfless," Shadowheart said as she finished off her own breakfast. "It's as Wyll said, you bring out the best of everyone. Even the bloodsucker," she smiled mischievously at Melphie, who's eyes slid back to him as he set about stuffing his things in his pack.
"Well, alright..."
"I'd like if you stick close to me today so that I might keep an eye on you, at least for a little while," the cleric said, her eyes sliding down to Melphie's now bandaged wrists. "And no feeding tonight, you've gone through enough. He has a bottle of blood, that'll keep for him until tomorrow."
"Yes, ma'am," Melphie rolled her eyes with a grin. She felt safe with these people, her friends. She truly loved them as if they were her family, and she felt touched by their willingness to stay by her in her moments of weakness. She once more glanced at Astarion, who had now begun the process of taking down the fabrics of his tent, and her heart began to pick up the pace as it often did when she saw or thought about him.
She may be naive, but Melphie wasn't stupid; she knew she was in love with Astarion, had been the moment he had shushed her in her ear on the beach all those weeks ago. She wanted to be near him, yearned for him to hold her, at all hours of the day. It didn't help that he had given himself to her physically, that he talked to her in that voice that she knew that he knew made her hair stand on end. It didn't help that he would feed on her, cradling her so close; she craved for him to hold her like that more than she wanted his bite.
But Melphie didn't know how to go about asking for such a thing, and ever since the incident with Alfira she had been more or less careful with how often she was alone with anyone, much less Astarion.
And maybe it was her runaway imagination, but she could swear he lingered near her when she was conversing with locals; sometimes, she could feel the coolness of his skin brush her hand as she handed him his share of spoils after every fight despite them not saying anything. A couple times, she thought she caught him looking at her, and all of this just caused her to ache a little more with want for him to be with her, to stay by her side.
But she could never ask. How could he love someone like her? He'd made it perfectly clear that her willingness to help did nothing but annoy him, and now that she almost killed him? Of course he didn't want to be near her. And as she thought this, her chest began to hurt. Of course he would never love her back.
She didn't know, couldn't know, that she was the only thing that occupied his thoughts as he moved to begin packing up her things for her.
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