Every year, on the night of his birthday, Astarion watches lights drift off to the sky. He's not sure they're for him, but they're a nice treat. Something he likes to stare at.

Cazador— Father— insists that the sunlight would hurt him. So, throughout his life, Astarion has never seen the sun. He's never pranced in daylight, like the heroes in the stories he reads tend to do.

Growing up in a tower is dreadfully boring. Please, do believe him. Especially with the fact that Father is so often out and away. Astarion can only do so much by his lonesome!

Reading. Cleaning. Paint the lights (or at least what he imagines they look like?) Clean some more. Read the same few books. Did Astarion mention cleaning?

Astarion will see the light one day. Some how.

Even if it means using this intruder to do so. Nevermind the fact Astarion knocked out the crook, that was most certainly warranted.

"For Hells, who even climbs into a tower like this?! Uninvited..." Astarion chucks the intruder's bag into a nearby vase. Safer that way. Perhaps he'll be able to use that as leverage. Not to mention, the crown Astarion found inside the luggage. It's shiny, and he likes it.

When he hears a groan, Astarion promptly spins around on his heels. "Oh, thank all the Gods above! You survived that. I would absolutely despise if you succumbed to a head wound. And that'd be a terrible pain to explain to Father..."