[ Moving over to where Astarion is still sitting, Iorveth reaches for him with both hands, palms cupping that perfect face. ]

Not a matter of if. I will be with you.

[ They had the (unnecessary) row about it, and Iorveth has already committed himself completely to Astarion's cause; there's no tearing him from it now, unless Astarion put his foot down about not wanting Iorveth anywhere near him.

(Even then, Iorveth might hover around to make sure Astarion gets by. Sneaky fox.)

A kiss to a smooth forehead, and Iorveth pulls away. ]

...We'll manage, gracefully or no. You're more capable than you give yourself credit for, beloved.