[ Mostly, when Iorveth says he'll behave, he means it facetiously. Not tonight, though. Tonight, he needs to save his energy for potential hag-related disasters in his future, and let Astarion decompress a bit after the absolute shitshow of the past day. There is a lingering and omnipresent worry of something happening to Astarion out in the city, but that's the overprotectiveness speaking－ Astarion his a career nightstalker, Iorveth tells himself. He'll be fine without Iorveth breathing down his neck for a few hours.

(Famous last words.)

Hands still held in Astarion's, Iorveth gets up off the couch and makes his way back to the bedroom. His fortress for the day-night. ]

Not at first. The problem was when it did begin to get challenging.

[ Sure, it took a while, but falling in love with Astarion was a lesson in trying to resist an unstoppable force. It still feels like that, sometimes. Like missing a step on the stairs, or feeling a well-aimed arrow fly by his ear. ]

I'd promised myself countless times that I wouldn't ask you to come north with me.