[ Gods, he's down bad. Iorveth, the certified champion of telling others to do things themselves and to find their own courage to see their business through, aches when Astarion says that he isn't brave enough. For a moment, his features furrow into a frown, the protest written clearly on the lines of his face― "you were brave enough to fight for your own freedom"― but lets the argument recede a beat later, as he tells himself that it's counterproductive to advocate against how Astarion feels.
Instead of pressing his point (an amazing act of restraint for him), he turns his hand over under Astarion's, and twines their fingers. ]
Then I'll stay by your side.
[ A light squeeze, and he settles his expression back to warm neutral. ]
It's no punishment for me. [ Being near Astarion has been infuriatingly good for him, to the point where he wonders if it isn't also very bad that he's so content in Astarion's company. Either way, Iorveth's accepted that he adores him. ]
no subject
Instead of pressing his point (an amazing act of restraint for him), he turns his hand over under Astarion's, and twines their fingers. ]
Then I'll stay by your side.
[ A light squeeze, and he settles his expression back to warm neutral. ]
It's no punishment for me. [ Being near Astarion has been infuriatingly good for him, to the point where he wonders if it isn't also very bad that he's so content in Astarion's company. Either way, Iorveth's accepted that he adores him. ]