[He doesn't understand at first. He thinks perhaps he's missed the point, or that Vakares is going to tell him that he feared something even greater from Astarion. And when nothing of the sort happens . . . he does not know how to take it.
Is he meant to believe Astarion has some form of affection for him? Even at his most sentimental, Fenris finds it hard to believe. There have been peaceful periods, yes, but nothing you might call adoring. No word nor deed jumps out to Fenris as any indicator that Astarion might hold him in any higher esteem than a good fuck. And it's not that he doesn't want to get along, but—
But it had stung, that first meeting. After nearly half a year of growing stronger beneath Vakares' care, hearing stories about all the wonders that might await him if he chose to submit to his damning bite . . . oh, what a rosy future Vakares had crafted for him. And be fair: it wasn't a lie. He's still glad he made the choice he had. But ah . . . all those tales about how Fenris would along with his elder counterpart, how alike they were not just in looks but habits and humor, all of it fed into a future that simply didn't exist. Astarion despised him on sight, and after a century, well. Why on earth should either of them change that habit?
But they must. They must.
Still. The only other explanation for Vakares' comment is that Astarion fears his sire's permanent wrath too much to enslave or murder Fenris, and it's that which Fenris truly takes to heart. He does not think he can rely on some unknown affection to stay his hand— but the knowledge that Vakares truly loves both his consorts might. And it's that which he takes to heart right now, truthfully, though he knows that isn't the one his sire intends.]
So easily threatened . . .
[It's quietly musing, and not necessarily judgemental. A few moments pass as Fenris loses himself in thought, and then:]
Why?
Was it from his life before? Or did his fears begin later, when you first changed another?
[He wouldn't ask normally, not because he isn't curious, but because Vakares makes it a point not to gossip about one with the other. But tonight is different. This isn't petty talk, the intent only to harm or humiliate; Fenris asks because he doesn't understand— and now, standing on the edge of a sheer cliff, he realizes he has to, and very quickly. The more he understands, the easier this might just be.]
I do not understand how he has spent centuries with you and yet still cannot alleviate his fears.
[Not like Fenris, who still catches himself flinching sometimes when he feels magic surge in the air.]
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Is he meant to believe Astarion has some form of affection for him? Even at his most sentimental, Fenris finds it hard to believe. There have been peaceful periods, yes, but nothing you might call adoring. No word nor deed jumps out to Fenris as any indicator that Astarion might hold him in any higher esteem than a good fuck. And it's not that he doesn't want to get along, but—
But it had stung, that first meeting. After nearly half a year of growing stronger beneath Vakares' care, hearing stories about all the wonders that might await him if he chose to submit to his damning bite . . . oh, what a rosy future Vakares had crafted for him. And be fair: it wasn't a lie. He's still glad he made the choice he had. But ah . . . all those tales about how Fenris would along with his elder counterpart, how alike they were not just in looks but habits and humor, all of it fed into a future that simply didn't exist. Astarion despised him on sight, and after a century, well. Why on earth should either of them change that habit?
But they must. They must.
Still. The only other explanation for Vakares' comment is that Astarion fears his sire's permanent wrath too much to enslave or murder Fenris, and it's that which Fenris truly takes to heart. He does not think he can rely on some unknown affection to stay his hand— but the knowledge that Vakares truly loves both his consorts might. And it's that which he takes to heart right now, truthfully, though he knows that isn't the one his sire intends.]
So easily threatened . . .
[It's quietly musing, and not necessarily judgemental. A few moments pass as Fenris loses himself in thought, and then:]
Why?
Was it from his life before? Or did his fears begin later, when you first changed another?
[He wouldn't ask normally, not because he isn't curious, but because Vakares makes it a point not to gossip about one with the other. But tonight is different. This isn't petty talk, the intent only to harm or humiliate; Fenris asks because he doesn't understand— and now, standing on the edge of a sheer cliff, he realizes he has to, and very quickly. The more he understands, the easier this might just be.]
I do not understand how he has spent centuries with you and yet still cannot alleviate his fears.
[Not like Fenris, who still catches himself flinching sometimes when he feels magic surge in the air.]