[ Astarion pulls away, and Iorveth tries to chase him. Instinctive on his part, as well; he didn't love being angry at someone he's come to value more than himself. ]

It's a warning, you fool. [ "You fool" drips affection. ] From here on out, you'll wish I knew the meaning of moderation.

[ Astarion can't possibly expect Iorveth to let that admission of jealousy slide, especially not after they'd spent the whole night stabbing each other with words. He traces Astarion's jaw and brushes noses again, mindful of pushback but indulging in the much-coveted closeness anyway. ]

The Woodland Fox will always watch over the Aen Seidhe, but "Iorveth" is yours. [ A hum, tired but warm. ] Yours alone.