[ Astarion stills. A hag. A hag hag, not just an old bat like he'd thought. He stands, suddenly restless with anxiety as he starts to pace the length of the office, hands on his hips. His feet make an apprehensive pitter-patter on the lovely purple wood floors. ]

Of course! Why would anything ever be easy?

[ He stomps his foot for good measure, still unpracticed in dealing with negative emotions in any way more mature than that of a small child. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should have been able to tell. He should have noticed something. Now it feels like all of this was for nothing. Why would a hag just give them a precious cloak? Even getting Alkam's hand for her sounds too easy. With hags, there's always a price. ]

—Maybe she never even meant to reward us with the cloak in the first place. Hags aren't known for honoring their deals.