[ Loved him from the start. Astarion laughs again, a light, tinkling sound, entirely without malice or nervousness. The sort of laugh that came to him so rarely for two centuries, but now comes more and more. ]

You didn't love me.

[ Astarion isn't even sure that Iorveth liked him. It's all right; Iorveth loves him now, and that's what's important. He can't hold a grudge when, admittedly, he wasn't always particularly likable or lovable. He didn't need to be loved back then. Iorveth waded through all of that unpleasantness and tolerated it, accepted it, and that led to Astarion opening up like a flower to the sun. ]

Have you any idea how much you scowled at me?

[ A quick kiss to the mouth, which isn't scowling now. ]

And you wouldn't kiss me until I demanded it.

[ Which, despite everything, is still probably one of the most romantic things that's ever happened to him. ]