It’d all happened so fast. The flicker of realization in the Gur’s eyes, the flash of metal. Then, the splatter of blood and the thud of the Gur’s body hitting the ground as you stood over him.

For reasons entirely inconceivable to Astarion, you’d protected him. Taken a crossbow bolt for him, no less.

But that was the plan, wasn’t it? Astarion would use you, flatter you, get close to you, and you’d protect him without him having to lift a finger. To make matters worse, you hadn’t asked for anything in return.

So, Astarion approached you that night at camp, when all was quiet and the others had patched you up. “Can we talk? About what happened earlier, darling. When that Gur shot at me. I thought he might’ve had me for a moment there but then…you protected me.”

Astarion continued with a murmur, getting closer to you as he put on his little show. A script he’d rehearsed a dozen times, “You’ve been doing a lot for me with very little in return. As charming as my company is, I’m sure you’d want something…more.”

A step closer. Astarion slipped his shirt off. Then another step. Astarion’s hand on your chest, “A reward.”

”Why are they looking at me like that?” Astarion thought, “With those ‘innocent’ eyes. We don’t have to play this game. This is what you want. What I know you want. This is what everyone always wants.”