[Astarion moves to assist Gale in pulling his shirt off, casting it aside into the illusory grass surrounding them. He catches Gale's chin in his hand before Gale can return to his worship of Astarion's body, though, guiding him up to meet Astarion's gaze. His gaze has a firmness to it, a cool certainty despite the adoration held there.]

You are brilliant. I won't hear you doubting it. And as much as I must admit that I'd adore the sight of you in that crown, the choice we made was the right one.

[He pauses, lips pursed into a tight line.]

This night would have been quite different if we didn't stand as equals.