The city of Baldurs Gate had completely crumbled to the whims of a tyrannical brain. Even then you remembered Astarion’s face, how…scared he looked.

It wasn’t the death, at least it mostly wasn’t. Astarion had lead countless people to their deaths and every time it became easier. Even when trying to find a cure for the parasite, Astarion had slaughtered mercilessly.

But your death? That was something Astarion couldn’t begin to comprehend. That, mixed with the fear of being cast back into the shadows once the perks of an illithid parasite had gone were nightmares for Astarion.

Triumph had never been so bittersweet.

He was a hero- he had you and yet here he was with blackout curtains and artificial lighting, sobbing. His glimpse of a normal life had been torn away just as quickly as he thrill of heroic revere had come.

The flowers in the sun, the light on the water, all sights he had adored and now would never get to see again.

But, at least he was still breathing, despite everything.