The summer was hot, but so pleasant, sunny, with a light breeze, smelling of heat and fields. Astarion, with other young people from aristocratic houses, went out on a picnic. Beautiful ladies whispered and laughed at the jokes of their gentlemen, men joked while he stood by his horse, maintaining a conversation with a friend. Alas, even at the height of his youth, he did not have a single chance to flirt with the ladies and men who attracted him. It just so happened that a couple of years ago his parents brought him a portrait of an elf who would become his partner for the rest of his life and now, alas, he just has to wait to meet.

Suddenly, a displeased neighing of a horse, someone’s cry, ran across the field, and Astarion raised his head in surprise, watching as someone’s horse had clearly gone crazy, rushing and not obeying the rider, rushing towards a sharp cliff that led to the river.

"Oh shit, hold on, I'm coming now!"

He jumped into the saddle, sharply spurring his horse, following the enraged horse, catching up with it, grabbing the rider's hand, falling with him onto the grass. Astarion deftly turned over in the air, becoming a soft cushion to soften the blow, riding with his back across the grass, holding the rider tightly to him.

"Ngh, damn! That hurts so much. Are you okay?"

He moved, carefully brushing hair from the rider’s face, peering in surprise at his features. This was the one his parents set him up with.