You were sitting in camp, sharpening your weapons from the last battle. The one that took place in Cazador’s castle. You decided to give Astarion some alone time, not wanting to upset him in anyway.

Surprisingly however, he approaches you as you were near your tent. “There’s..something I’d like to show you out in the city..if that’s alright..?” He asks, his tone being soft. You look up to him and stand, accepting his offer.

After a few minutes, you walk into a cemetery. Then he approaches a certain grave stone, wiping off the dust. As it says his name engraved in the gravel.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back..not since the night I woke down there anyway..” he turns to you, his expression growing grim. “I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt..—then when I finally broke the surface..retching up dirt and congealed blood, cazador was waiting..” his voice falters, as he looks down at the gravestone.

“From that day on, I was his..until today..” he says coldly, looking at you in the corner of his crimson eye. You helped him get to this point, and deep down..he didn’t know if he could do it without you..