Chapter Text
The empty chasm of hunger gnawed at his insides enough to make him weep. But he’d felt worse than this. Red eyes locked onto the sleeping doe; her neck curved over her front legs to make her body a protective coil. She was mere paces away and he could almost taste her hot blood before it spilled into his mouth. He was crouched in the brush and held his breath as he took one step forward. His mouth salivated with anticipation of his first real meal in days. Since surviving the crash, finding his own food was difficult. He had never hunted like this before. He was so close now, just a few more silent steps.
A twig snapped under his foot. He froze as the doe jerked to life, her ears flicked up, black eyes darting around. He had one chance. He leapt forward, hands outstretched, ready to grab any part of her he could and wrench his fangs into her body. As she scrambled on knobby limbs, all he felt was the swipe of her back hoof on his fingers as she fled. He flopped flat on his chest with a grunt. Every other living creature in the vicinity sprinted off with her.
After a moment of disbelief, Astarion clenched his fist and let the rage tear through him. “Gods, damn it!” he roared, scaring off any other potential meal nearby. He lay face down in the dirt for a moment, his breath, and the pain in his stomach the only sensation. He gritted his teeth, trying not to think of the fresh blood that could be sating him now. He’d endured worse. Much worse. But the days out in the woods with nothing but carrion he could find, he wondered how much more he could take. The hunger had been present for the past two hundred years. It waxed and waned to various degrees, but it never went away when all he could eat were rats his master threw at his feet. One full deer, the gallons of her blood, might have been enough to finally end his centuries-long starvation. At least for a while.
Astarion picked himself up from the ground and admitted defeat. He would have to find something, anything now. Even if it was another dead rat. There was always the camp. He’d never tried to feed from a thinking creature before, his master always forbade it. But he was free now. Still, his current hunger level being nothing short of ravenous could prove risky. If he drained anyone dry in that camp, he would have many powerful people after him. Allies were invaluable now.
He focused on anything but the pangs in his gut. The coolness of the air, the dampness of the earth. He gathered himself to his feet and took a deep breath. He would last another day. It would be painful, he would be weak, but he would survive. He always did, no matter how much he begged for death at times. Astarion shuffled back the way he came through the woods. He was deep in them now, farther than he’d usually been at camp, and he wondered for a moment if he was lost. The trees loomed over him and cast long shadows in the moonlight. He expected his master to jump out from them at any second. But he kept walking, eyes searching for any sign of the glowing embers of camp in the distance.
Astarion knew he was close when the faintest smell of smoke wafted in the breeze. But with that was also the metallic scent of blood. His eyes widened. There was no mistaking it. Maybe that deer had been caught by something else. Maybe a bear. Maybe something even more ferocious. It didn’t matter now. Astarion bounded towards the scent. Soon it was rich in his nostrils, and it was accompanied by a strange sound. The unmistakable shink of steel. Was someone up sharpening their blade? It might be the gith. He was surprised she slept at all with the ferocity she possessed. As he drew closer, the sound of the blade became accompanied by wet squelches. The scent of blood was all-consuming. He was nearly at the source. When he brushed past the overgrowth he came to a clearing.
And if he had a heartbeat, it would have stopped.
The drow fellow from the Nautaloid. Only this wasn’t the smart-mouthed, charming bard he had met days ago. The man before him swayed and twitched as he slashed his blade across the corpse beneath him. A wicked grin strained against his face and low, disturbing giggles escaped from behind his clenched teeth. The body was unrecognizable, not that Astarion wanted to recognize them in this state. He was frozen in shock, but his hunger howled within him louder than ever. So much blood on the ground. So much waste.
Like the deer when she heard the twig snap, the drow suddenly jerked and looked right at him. His black eyes pierced Astarion’s in the glow of the moonlight. They both stood frozen, neither daring to make a move. Astarion still could not comprehend the sight before him. That same man who played lute by the fire, who saved little children from vipers, who inspired another bard to finish her tribute to her dearly departed tutor…
That was the same girl he was currently butchering.
You’re in trouble now, aren’t you? The voice of Cazador in his head. Though the tadpole seemed to break his more literal hold on Astarion, he sometimes still heard him. His freedom seemed all too good to be true. His allies, albeit with their own quirks and damages, were the only allies he’d ever had. Now one of them was desecrating a corpse in the woods.
And by the way he’s looking at you, boy, I’d say you’re next.
Tav at least seemed to snap out of his manic swaying. He blinked and his whole expression seemed to change. He looked down at the viscera that covered his hands and the mangled body beneath him. Shock smeared his expression, like he had also stumbled upon this sight in the woods. Astarion remained frozen; maybe if he crept backwards, he could pretend he was never there. But just as the thought crossed his mind, Tav’s eyes were on him again, his gaze focused and calculating.
“Hungry?” he asked, all the charisma and charm back in his smooth voice.
Astarion managed only a stammer in response. Oh gods, had he been cannibalizing the girl too? The only blood on his face was what had splattered on him during the slaughter.
“I know what you really are.” Tav smiled, and Astarion finally eased.
“What in the Hells have you done?”
“She still clings to life. I made sure of it. Come, there isn’t much of her blood left.”
If he were a better man, Astarion would run as far as he could. But he was beyond saving. Tav tilted the poor girl’s head to expose a deep wound he had carved in it. It still wept. Before he could think, Astarion dropped to his knees and plunged his fangs into her flesh. Warm blood flooded his parched mouth. He couldn’t stop the groans while he drank as much as he could from the wound. It was only a few mouthfuls before she ran dry, but the clawing hunger inside him had fizzled to only a slight itch. When he could draw no more, he unlatched himself and gasped. His breath heaved and his head swam with this newfound vigour. Tav lurched forward, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and clapped a bloody hand over his open mouth.
“Be quiet,” he hissed. “The camp’s just over there. They’ll hear you.”
He could smell the woodsmoke now. If he angled his head, he could just hear someone’s soft snores mere metres away. He steadied his breath and Tav released him. Now he took Astarion’s hands in his and stared at him with his intense dark eyes.
“Can you keep a secret?” he asked. “I can. I’ll keep yours if you keep mine.”
Astarion looked down to see the sticky, half-congealed blood now covered his hands, too. This likely wasn’t so much an offer as it was blackmail now. He narrowed his eyes at the drow. “Want to tell me why you were doing this in the first place?”
Tav let him go and his expression grew pained. He pinched the bridge of his nose and furrowed his brow. “I have this urge. Normally I can keep it together but sometimes…” He turned back to look at his victim and shook his head. “I barely remember doing this.”
Astarion raised an eyebrow. “So, you black out and start disembowelling poor innocent girls? That’s comforting.”
“Can you help me with this?” Tav stood up and stepped towards the body. He crouched to hook his arms around hers and nodded towards her feet. Astarion complied. Would the body even hold together with the way Tab had ravaged her midsection?
Doing what you’re told. You’re not as free from me as you think.
They disposed of her body in the brush. It didn’t look unreasonable that she may have been mauled by wolves. Astarion shuddered as her lifeless eyes stared up at him. While his hunger had been calmed, it still scratched in the pit of his stomach.
They needed water. Tav motioned to Astarion to follow him to the stream that ran alongside the camp. They went far down enough to be out of sight. Astarion scrubbed his hands in the water and splashed his face more than enough times. The stain in his white shirt would have to stay. Tav on the other hand had much more to clean off. He must have thought himself clever, smearing Astarion with blood to help him conceal his deeds. It was rich, considering Astarion had been concocting his own plan to break down the barriers and get Tav to trust him. The only way he knew how.
“Your chin,” Tav muttered.
Astarion looked down into the water and saw nothing but Tav and the moon reflected. A few more handfuls of water around his mouth. “Now? I can’t see.”
Tav looked at the water and back to Astarion a couple times. He reached out and wiped the end of his chin with his stained sleave. “There.”
Tav’s skin was clean of any blood, but he still wrung his hands. He seemed an entirely different person now. The creature who hacked and slashed at the corpses didn’t care at all for decorum. But this Tav was checking his reflection, smoothing his hair, making sure every single drop of blood was washed away. Something was deeply wrong here.
“You look a bit peaky. Did you need more blood?”
Astarion wasn’t about to say no. His hunger was more satisfied than it had ever been, but it was still present. Maybe it would never go away completely. “Where are you getting it? I think this is enough murder for me for one night.”
Tav tilted his head to the side to offer his neck. “To show I trust you.”
This was more manipulation and Astarion knew it. Make the vampire indebted to you now. But blood from a thinking, living creature. Tav laid down by the riverbank while Astarion crouched over him. He imagined one of the thousands of victims he’d seduced for Cazador over the years. They had always been snatched away mid-embrace when they’d realized his betrayal. Every single time he’d been tempted to sink his teeth into their bare flesh while he entertained them. But he dared not in fear of what Cazador would do to him. He knew it all too well. Now someone was willingly let him do this, inviting him in.
Tav still smelled like the viscera he had been covered in. Astarion pushed past it and bit hard into his neck. The taste was magnificent. Like nothing he’d ever tasted before. It was rich and full. Virile and electric. He gulped down all he could before Tav gave his shoulder a shove. He didn’t want to stop; it would be so easy to drain him dry. But again, he thought of their allies. They wouldn’t be his allies much longer if they discovered he’d killed their de facto leader. Astarion savoured the very last drop as he let go. For once in his pathetic undead existence, the gnawing hunger was silent. He could weep.
“Thank you,” Astarion murmured. He helped Tav sit up slowly, noticing him wobble slightly from the blood loss. They couldn’t do this all the time. He’d never felt so sharp, so alert. Tav held his neck where the wound was. Some healing salve back at the camp would fix those right up. They wouldn’t scar over violently like the ones on Astarion’s neck. Cazador would never be a fraction so gentle.
“I don’t know how long our secrets can be kept,” Tav said. “But I’ve got your back.”
Astarion regarded him closely. This was not the same man as earlier. Could his tadpole be possessing him? If so, why didn’t everyone else go into a murderous fugue state?
“Listen to me. I don’t want to hurt you. Or anyone else.”
Astarion hesitated. This might be more manipulation, but he switched from two different states so completely. Whatever his tadpole was doing to him, it made him dangerous. “Maybe save it for our foes,” he said. “You can spill their innards, and I’ll drain them dry. Make a day of it!” He chuckled to lighten the mood and the corner of Tav’s mouth curled up in response.
“Keep me slightly drained. Not so weak I’ll keel over in battle, but weak enough you or the others could kill me if something happens.”
Tav’s expression was sincere. An offer of blood and protection, how on earth could Astarion say no? It seemed Tav had played his hand first, but Astarion always had an ace up his sleeve. If he could get Tav to trust him, take the perfect amount of his blood and cover up any more slaughters, he had a chance to further solidify this alliance. He’d been aware of their mutual attraction since day one. The next step was getting Tav to care. Then he’d have his protection nearly guaranteed, and the possibility of killing Cazador became an inch closer to reality.
Cazador’s voice in his head was for once silent. A real possibility indeed.
“You’ve got a deal,” Astarion said.
As they headed back to camp, they said nothing else to each other. From his tent he could see Tav who passed out as soon as he hit his bedroll. All that stabbing must really tire a man out. Astarion expected his fresh meal to keep him invigorated and energized, but after a minute, he drifted into the most peaceful meditation he’d had in centuries.