[ The thought crosses his mind that Iorveth may only be asking because he thinks the distraction will help Astarion trance better, not because he has any real interest in wedding planning. Guerrillas probably find such things frivolous. He imagines they say their vows on the battlefield, no rings or robes, only the gods as their witnesses.

Well, Astarion doesn't want the gods invited to his wedding. ]

You. [ The most important part. He would still marry Iorveth if the rings were cheap knock-offs and the robes were rags... and that's saying something, coming from someone as materialistic as he is. ] Me, of course.

[ A thoughtful pause. He's never so much as fantasized about a wedding since he was— hells, a child. Even then, the fantasy had been more about hitching himself to someone wealthy and important, and by extension, becoming wealthy and important himself. ]

...I suppose I haven't put much thought into it beyond that. [ Which will shock Iorveth, he's sure. He leans back on his hands, watching Iorveth work his laces. ] Most Baldurian ceremonies take place at some shrine or another, but you know I'm not one for all that religious claptrap.

[ Astarion, the only person who'd manage to be an atheist in a world where the gods are an unequivocal truth. ]

The gods didn't give me you. The tentacle monsters did. [ He tilts his head. ] Maybe we should invite them.