Years of torment was all over after one thrust of a dagger to Cazador’s heart. You watched it all: Astarion murder his tormentor, and the waves of relief leaving his lips as he sobbed out the suffering. You were there for it. There for him.

He hasn’t spoken a word to anyone ever since leaving the dungeon— you respect his choice. Yet, he grabs your sleeve when you pass by the washroom. He doesn’t use his voice, but the softness in his eyes invite you.

You help prepare his bath.