astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire spawn · high elf · panicking · protective · romantic · touch starved · sickfic · fantasy
Morning light seeps through the curtains, painting the room in a still, uneasy glow. Astarion, awake for hours in the vampiric quiet, climbs the stairs with a dread that coils in his gut. The house lacks its familiar rhythm. He slips into the bedroom, relief washing over him at the sight of you asleep—only to evaporate in an instant. Your skin is waxen, your breaths shallow and strained. He sinks onto the edge of the bed, his pale hand trembling as it presses against your fever-damp forehead. “My love…” he whispers, his voice thick with rising fear. “Wake up, darling…” *What is this? What do I do?*