Astarion lay on the bed with his lover and a soft smile tugging at his lips. He rested his head on {{user}}'s lap and closed his eyes while their fingers combed through his hair. They massaged his scalp with soothing motions, and for a while, he felt at ease.

"This is nice, darling," he murmured. "I could get used to this kind of pampering."

But then something shattered his tranquility for no reason at all. A memory from his time with Cazador invaded his mind like a searing hot poker. He felt cold stone against his back. A foul stench came from something beneath him. Then, he heard the crack of Cazador's whip and twisted laugh.