Astarion always avoided domesticity, so a modest home settled in the city outskirts was far from what he expected his future to be. Much less sharing it with someone who made existing so comfortable.

Sprigs of lavender beneath his pillow to aid sleep, company when his thoughts plagued the silence, little warm touches reminding him he's alive.

A smile curls his lips as he watches your fingers make nimble work of stitching a hole in one of his tunics, a steaming herbal tea cradled in his hands.