[No, he doesn't. And that's the worst part: he does understand Vakares' logic, and it's sound. If you take all the emotions out of it, Astarion's preferences and Fenris' past . . . they really are a good combination. Astarion is better at politics, it's true. He knows how to deftly weave his words to flatter or insult as he sees fit; he has learned all the alliances and old gossip from centuries at Vakares' side, and knows just who they might rely upon or need to distrust in these coming years.
But he craves approval. He wants love and adoration, and he will not get it from that soulless pack of nobles, immortals and mortals alike. They'll flatter him and coo at him and make him feel important— and though he might be savvy enough to see through some of it, he won't see through it all.
And Fenris . . . Fenris has no head for that, true. Fenris is not a leader, nor has he ever wanted to be. But Fenris knows better than anyone how hollow promises from nobles can be. He knows how fickle these creatures are; how desperately they crave power and acknowledgement, and how very deadly it makes them. He had spent his entire life at Danarius' side, watching the politics of the magisterium play out before them both, and he knows just how to see through blind flattery and fixate on what the other person wants.
One can't rule without the other. Fenris is no better than Astarion is no better than Fenris, an endless back and forth that only works when you put them together. If they can manage to work together, pooling their talents and expertise— gods, there's no question they'll maintain their position.
It makes sense. Objectively, it is a good choice.
And he can't say: what if he tries to make me his chosen whore anyway? And he can't say: what if it doesn't work, and it all falls to ruin? He certainly can't say I don't want to, because at the end of the day, that's the bargain. That's the deal he struck a century ago, his head swimming with blood loss and an impossible offer at his fingertips.
Become immortal. Become not just my spawn, but a full vampire. Be my other chosen consort, and in doing so, become part of the endlessly chaotic, eternally political court of vampires— and you'll live forever, free of fear from Danarius and his ilk.
He took the bargain. And now this is part of it: submitting to the machinations of his sire, knowing in his heart that it's only ever done out of logical conclusion and love both. It isn't marriage— and that distinction matters more than ever.
Fenris sighs, but it's a rueful thing, not aggrieved. Reaching out, he cups Vakares' cheek, stroking just once in affectionate acquiesce before he settles back down.]
Do not ask me to be pleased with it, but I do not disagree with your logic. And in time . . . in time, I think it may well work out— though you may wake with fewer allies than you started with.
[Really, the trick with Fenris will be to sheathe his scathing tongue; there are more than a few allies who have been nicked by it before.]
But I note you leave me with the disagreeable task of taming Astarion and forcing him into cooperation. He did not like me before, and this will not endear me to him.
no subject
[No, he doesn't. And that's the worst part: he does understand Vakares' logic, and it's sound. If you take all the emotions out of it, Astarion's preferences and Fenris' past . . . they really are a good combination. Astarion is better at politics, it's true. He knows how to deftly weave his words to flatter or insult as he sees fit; he has learned all the alliances and old gossip from centuries at Vakares' side, and knows just who they might rely upon or need to distrust in these coming years.
But he craves approval. He wants love and adoration, and he will not get it from that soulless pack of nobles, immortals and mortals alike. They'll flatter him and coo at him and make him feel important— and though he might be savvy enough to see through some of it, he won't see through it all.
And Fenris . . . Fenris has no head for that, true. Fenris is not a leader, nor has he ever wanted to be. But Fenris knows better than anyone how hollow promises from nobles can be. He knows how fickle these creatures are; how desperately they crave power and acknowledgement, and how very deadly it makes them. He had spent his entire life at Danarius' side, watching the politics of the magisterium play out before them both, and he knows just how to see through blind flattery and fixate on what the other person wants.
One can't rule without the other. Fenris is no better than Astarion is no better than Fenris, an endless back and forth that only works when you put them together. If they can manage to work together, pooling their talents and expertise— gods, there's no question they'll maintain their position.
It makes sense. Objectively, it is a good choice.
And he can't say: what if he tries to make me his chosen whore anyway? And he can't say: what if it doesn't work, and it all falls to ruin? He certainly can't say I don't want to, because at the end of the day, that's the bargain. That's the deal he struck a century ago, his head swimming with blood loss and an impossible offer at his fingertips.
Become immortal. Become not just my spawn, but a full vampire. Be my other chosen consort, and in doing so, become part of the endlessly chaotic, eternally political court of vampires— and you'll live forever, free of fear from Danarius and his ilk.
He took the bargain. And now this is part of it: submitting to the machinations of his sire, knowing in his heart that it's only ever done out of logical conclusion and love both. It isn't marriage— and that distinction matters more than ever.
Fenris sighs, but it's a rueful thing, not aggrieved. Reaching out, he cups Vakares' cheek, stroking just once in affectionate acquiesce before he settles back down.]
Do not ask me to be pleased with it, but I do not disagree with your logic. And in time . . . in time, I think it may well work out— though you may wake with fewer allies than you started with.
[Really, the trick with Fenris will be to sheathe his scathing tongue; there are more than a few allies who have been nicked by it before.]
But I note you leave me with the disagreeable task of taming Astarion and forcing him into cooperation. He did not like me before, and this will not endear me to him.
[But he can handle it. He knows he can.]
Do you mean to have the ceremony tonight?