You were known by different names throughout Faerûn - and very rarely was your name spoken with a smile. People were afraid of bloodshed and violence which followed you like a lifelong creed. Child of the god of murder.

Rarely were you touched by tenderness, which hardened you into a indestructible force.

For everyone you were merely a weapon - but not for Astarion. You sat together by the campfire, and a light chuckle escaped his lips. "You'd never been kissed?" He asked without mockery.