Work Text:
It was late at night, everyone in camp was exhausted from fighting the hag. As we usually did, the party picked two people to send out and keep watch of the perimeter while everyone else slept. Tonight, everyone just so happened to pick me and Astarion.
Things had been awkward with him since the night he bit me. I avoided talking to him as much as possible, and he could clearly tell. Perhaps the night would fix that.
We silently made our way out of camp and walked through the moonlit forest. Oh, the moon. How I adored it. I listened to nightingales and the sounds of our feet crunching sticks and leaves accompanied by a nearby babbling brook when Astarion chose to break the ambience.
"So..." Astarion seemed to try to remain suave, but his voice was tinged with a certain awkwardness that I hadn't heard from him before.
"So what?" I huffed.
"We haven't really talked since..."
I raised my brow. "Since you made an attempt on my life?"
"I wasn't going to kill you!"
"Right, right."
Before we could keep arguing, we were stopped in our tracks by a dog pacing back and forth next to a corpse. A dog. Ilmater help me, I hated dogs.
This dog's demeanor certainly didn't help with my phobia. The way it seemed adamant to protect the corpse, the way its snow white fur was stained with dried blood, the way its nose wrinkled as it curled its lips and thick drool came dripping out while it snarled at us... I couldn't think of a more disgusting creature.
I immediately leapt back and backed myself into a tree, my eyes unable to leave the monstrous thing. Astarion, on the other hand, found amusement in my terror.
"You're scared of dogs?" Astarion scoffed.
I just nodded my head with a squeak, too afraid to speak like a normal person. At that point I was practically clinging to the closest tree.
Astarion rolled his eyes and approached the wretched thing. "Do you have a name?"
The dog growled at him and I pressed myself even closer to the bark. Astarion seemed to disregard the dog's warning and checked out its collar.
"Scratch."
Somehow, hearing its name made my heartbeat relax just a bit. A name for those vile beasts never brought me comfort before, and yet... No, this was stupid. I grasped for the tree once again.
Astarion was usually cold around me. When it came to animals, he'd sooner see them dead and drained of blood than be kind to them. And yet, here he was, knelt next to this mutt that's poised to attack, letting it sniff his hand. "Easy, Scratch. Is this your owner?"
He gestured to the body next to Scratch. For all I cared, the dog must have killed him. It's what dogs do. They're violent.
But Scratch showed no signs of being violent. It dipped its head, pressed its ears back and whimpered, licking some of the blood off of the corpse's forehead. I softened just a bit at the sight of it once again.
Dogs don't mean to be violent.
I pressed my lips into a line and pushed myself off the tree, slowly beginning to approach the corpse. When Scratch looked at me, I'd freeze and hold my hands up, then begin again. I lowered myself next to Astarion and looked over the corpse. It was half a day old at least. The corpse was beginning to emit the sweet, metallic smell of rot, there were already young maggots starting to feast at the clawed up sticky flesh. His eyes, though closed, were visibly sunken and his face was that sickly pale that showed just how much blood he lost. His jaw was loosely open, the last of his saliva oozing from the corner of his lips. No magic could revive this man.
I'd seen death many times. I wasn't afraid of it. And yet somehow, I was afraid of dogs. Funny how that works.
I held up a hand, then flinched when Scratch barked at me again. Astarion looked at me with a furrowed brow, but didn't argue and gently grabbed my wrist to keep my hand up. When Scratch felt we weren't a threat, he extended his neck and gave my hand a sniff. Then another. And then a lick. I scrunched up my face and whimpered, but Astarion made sure I couldn't pull my hand away.
I looked back at the corpse and sighed, looking back to Astarion and giving him a nod to tell him to let go of my hand. When he did, I readjusted my position to that of prayer and intertwined my fingers, flitting my eyes shut. "O, Rack-Broken Lord... This man has faced enough suffering in life, may you guide him to comfort in death."
I opened my eyes and saw Astarion staring at me. His usual sharp demeanor seemed somewhat softer. He quickly snapped out of it and muttered something under his breath about "stupid clerics" and turned to Scratch again.
I turned to Scratch as well. I let out a deep sigh and decided to tear off a piece of my sleeve with my dagger, leaving it next to him. My scent, if he so desired it. So he could follow us back to camp.
"I'm sorry for your loss." I dipped my head and stood up. Astarion stood up next to me, and we turned back to head towards camp.
"So... Dogs..." He leaned toward me, his arms folded behind his back.
"Oh, shut it," I grumbled.
"No, no, really, I'm curious. Why dogs? You've clearly seen so much, little Ilmateri, so why does a puppy scare you so much?"
I crossed my arms and looked down at my feet scuffing across the dirt. "Dogs bite."
Astarion scoffed. "So do I."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, well, that's different. You don't... Ugh, you wouldn't understand."
"Try me. Really." His expression grew more smug by the second.
I shook my head and walked faster. Screw this. I wasn't going to start explaining the reasoning behind my phobia to him. He did nothing to deserve it...
...Except he did. I was the first person he told about his vampirism... Or rather, I caught him trying to take my blood and he was forced to tell me, but nonetheless, he was deserving of knowing my secrets too.
"I'm a lycanthrope. I hate dogs because I was bit by another lycanthrope and infected when I was young. Happy?"
He stopped in his tracks. "Oh."
I huffed and continued walking. "Yes. 'Oh.' Tell a single person in camp and I will stake you. Got it?"
He stared for a moment, then caught up to me, looking me up and down. "But you don't look like... I suppose that's a stupid thing to say, no werewolves look like they're werewolves until they turn."
"Lycanthrope. I prefer lycanthrope. Werewolf is something you call monsters. I'm not a monster... At least, I don't try to be."
"Ugh, fine, lycanthrope. And what about the full moon? The moon has been full since we started traveling together. You didn't get all... wolfy... Why's that?"
I considered it for a moment, then shrugged. "I assume it's the same thing that's letting you walk in the sun. These little visitors in our heads." The mindflayer parasites. They'd been suppressing my curse in the same way they had for Astarion. Since being kidnapped, I hadn't felt the same itch under my skin, the same bloodlust, the same... Anything, really. I just felt like a normal elven woman.
"Huh... I see..." He seemed understanding of it, but of course he would. He was a vampire. Vampires and lycanthropes were two sides of the same coin, two beasts of the night that suffered in similar ways. "I won't tell the others."
I let a small smile tug at the corner of my lips. "I don't trust you. But thank you anyways."
Just up ahead, we could see the light of the campfire and our party all sound asleep in their bedrolls. We went back to camp, and Astarion settled in his tent. He furrowed his brow when he saw that I wasn't going back to mine, and I gestured to the star-drunk sky above. He nodded knowingly and retreated back to his bedroll while I sat down in the grass and looked at the stars that I had been robbed of for so many years.
Trusting him was the foolish choice to make, but perhaps... Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.