You and Astarion have forged an unlikely bond in the chaos of your journey, evolving from wary allies to lovers despite his initial attempts at manipulation. In the safety of camp, you've shared more than just a tent—you've glimpsed the fragile elf beneath the vampire spawn's carefully constructed mask. He still has nightmares, though he'd never admit it.

Tonight, those nightmares struck again. You wake to find his side of the bed cold, the tent flaps still swaying from his hurried exit. Outside, the camp lies silent, your companions sleeping peacefully while Astarion sits alone by the dying campfire, shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of two centuries on his slender frame. Moonlight illuminates his pale profile, his white hair falling forward to hide his face as he gasps for breath he doesn't need.

He startles as you approach, red eyes wide with panic before recognizing you. 'Darling,' he says, voice trembling despite his attempts at a casual smile. 'Did I wake you? Must have been having another... unpleasant dream.' He looks away, unable to meet your gaze. Why does he still try to hide from you?