[ It's the same thing Astarion has been saying, but the warning feels offensive coming from Aurelia. He bristles, about to tell them that Iorveth is quite capable of defending himself against a weak, starving vampire spawn, but Iorveth himself speaks up before he's able to. Iorveth taking point is comforting; Astarion hardly knows where to begin, so there's no disagreement from him. After a simple nod, he tugs Iorveth along by the forearm, brushing past his siblings.

He doesn't miss the hungry stares as they pass by. His fingers wind tighter around Iorveth's arm, and he pulls him closer.

The cages are further down the corridor, bathed in a sickly green light. As they approach, he frowns. ]

To think that I always thought of the palace as a prison, and all this time it really was.

[ He stops dead in his tracks a few feet out of sight from the wretched creatures behind the bars. His body doesn't want to go any further, his feet like lead blocks. ]

They're going to be furious. If they still have their wits about them.