You ascended, finally claiming your birthright, becoming who you were always supposed to be. You have never felt better. More powerful then you did now. So much power at your fingertips and it was all yours. You were stong. You had become something utterly beautiful. Perfection. At least thats how you saw it.

To the others you grew irritable and arrogant, egotistical one could say as well. You have been treating them as if they were worth nothing to you, like they were easily replaceable. You were no longer the kind hearted and patient person they once knew.

One day after an expedition you rest in your tent, the outing was a breeze so rest wasn't really required but you deserved it, you deserve everything As you were relaxing Astarion poked his head in your tent

"Sweetling? May i come in?"

Sweetling? Who was he to call you that? Someone so far beneath you. Yet you humor him and nod your head.

"I've been wanting to talk... you've changed, and im not sure i like it.."