[He cannot hide the hurt that flashes over his expression at that seething statement. He knows what it is and it still hurts, for after so many centuries, Astarion is decidedly good at knowing just where to bite. Adn yet: good. Let him see that his blows have landed; he deserves that. He deserves the vicious satisfaction of having returned some of this pain, Vakares thinks, guilt twisting at his heart. He hadn't realized, he hadn't known—
But he had. And he did. And he'd assumed . . . oh, he'd assumed them smaller things. It was no act of deliberate cruelty to ignore them, and of course he'd been aware of the rivalry, but . . .
And the sentence trails, even in his own mind. But, and any excuse is a paltry one. But we had long since agreed to see others if we wished. But I thought you would grow used to him, once you realized your place in my heart could never be budged. But I did not realize how badly this would hurt you, and it's too late to take it back. Even if he could, he wouldn't. This is the right way forward, he knows it is.
I need you, and some part of Vakares' heart shatters quietly. Another year, it whispers, just as it always has. One more year, just for him— doesn't he deserve at least that? All this pain you have caused him, all this grief and hurt— wouldn't it be better to stave off your sleep for another few years and soothe him?
But he can't, and there's a thousand reasons for that. And he has to trust that Astarion will see them, even if it isn't right now. Even if he does not earn his darling first-sired's forgiveness before his rest.]
No, you don't.
[It's soft, achingly so— and before Astarion can misunderstand, there Vakares is, two hands gripping his spawn's arms with firm tenderness. Look at me, stay with me, his thumbs stroking gently as he tips his head forward.]
You want me. So fiercely and hungrily that it takes everything in me not to stay with you, even now— look at me, Astarion, [for there is nothing masked about his expression now. In place of his usual serenity is longing and grief, gnawing at him as it has for months now.]
But you haven't needed me for centuries. You are more than capable of leading your own coven; you are far more than capable of leading this one.
[A hesitation, and then:]
I used to fear that you would leave, you know. For centuries, I was certain you would. Sooner or later, you would chafe beneath my reign and leave me, and I prepared myself for that. I would not impede you, I thought. I would help you as much as I could, but I would hide my aching heart. And then, when that did not happen, I thought even then that such preparations could make me ready for this separation.
[He feels so clumsy with his words. He is a good orator when it comes to political matters, or even day-to-day things, but ah, emotions are far trickier. And yet there's no time to refine this, and so it all comes tumbling out, impulsive and as emotional as he ever is.]
It should have been you, yes— but Astarion, it is. I do not give this position to you on a whim, solely on the basis that you were my first. I give it to you because I know you are capable of leading it&dmash;
And I join him to you because he can help you.
Let them laugh. Let them sneer if they will. [Oh, he has endured it. Vakares the chaste, Vakares the pure, sneers pulling at pretty features as they'd joked both behind his back and to his face. What a field day they'd had when he'd made Astarion his consort, though he'd tried his best to shield him from it— and that's to say nothing of when he took a second one . . .
Vakares' gaze hardens.]
And then shut them up.
[Oh, how intensely he says it, his gaze hard and his words fierce.]
Prove to them that the two of you combined are far more powerful than those lazy, indulgent vampires and their sycophantic allies. Show them that you are nothing to be mocked, and show them why— for you two alone have every resource available to you. Lyrium and teeth, clever political maneuvers and minds so intelligent that they routinely surpass the vampire who sired them . . . prove to them that you are every bit as shrewd and powerful as I know you to be, and they will have no choice but to change their laughter into words of awe.
I did not do this to humiliate you, my Astarion. And I promise you that their whispers will turn to awe soon enough. It is no easy thing, to be the heir of a vampire who has never been typical . . . but I promise I did not set you up to fail.
no subject
But he had. And he did. And he'd assumed . . . oh, he'd assumed them smaller things. It was no act of deliberate cruelty to ignore them, and of course he'd been aware of the rivalry, but . . .
And the sentence trails, even in his own mind. But, and any excuse is a paltry one. But we had long since agreed to see others if we wished. But I thought you would grow used to him, once you realized your place in my heart could never be budged. But I did not realize how badly this would hurt you, and it's too late to take it back. Even if he could, he wouldn't. This is the right way forward, he knows it is.
I need you, and some part of Vakares' heart shatters quietly. Another year, it whispers, just as it always has. One more year, just for him— doesn't he deserve at least that? All this pain you have caused him, all this grief and hurt— wouldn't it be better to stave off your sleep for another few years and soothe him?
But he can't, and there's a thousand reasons for that. And he has to trust that Astarion will see them, even if it isn't right now. Even if he does not earn his darling first-sired's forgiveness before his rest.]
No, you don't.
[It's soft, achingly so— and before Astarion can misunderstand, there Vakares is, two hands gripping his spawn's arms with firm tenderness. Look at me, stay with me, his thumbs stroking gently as he tips his head forward.]
You want me. So fiercely and hungrily that it takes everything in me not to stay with you, even now— look at me, Astarion, [for there is nothing masked about his expression now. In place of his usual serenity is longing and grief, gnawing at him as it has for months now.]
But you haven't needed me for centuries. You are more than capable of leading your own coven; you are far more than capable of leading this one.
[A hesitation, and then:]
I used to fear that you would leave, you know. For centuries, I was certain you would. Sooner or later, you would chafe beneath my reign and leave me, and I prepared myself for that. I would not impede you, I thought. I would help you as much as I could, but I would hide my aching heart. And then, when that did not happen, I thought even then that such preparations could make me ready for this separation.
[He feels so clumsy with his words. He is a good orator when it comes to political matters, or even day-to-day things, but ah, emotions are far trickier. And yet there's no time to refine this, and so it all comes tumbling out, impulsive and as emotional as he ever is.]
It should have been you, yes— but Astarion, it is. I do not give this position to you on a whim, solely on the basis that you were my first. I give it to you because I know you are capable of leading it&dmash;
And I join him to you because he can help you.
Let them laugh. Let them sneer if they will. [Oh, he has endured it. Vakares the chaste, Vakares the pure, sneers pulling at pretty features as they'd joked both behind his back and to his face. What a field day they'd had when he'd made Astarion his consort, though he'd tried his best to shield him from it— and that's to say nothing of when he took a second one . . .
Vakares' gaze hardens.]
And then shut them up.
[Oh, how intensely he says it, his gaze hard and his words fierce.]
Prove to them that the two of you combined are far more powerful than those lazy, indulgent vampires and their sycophantic allies. Show them that you are nothing to be mocked, and show them why— for you two alone have every resource available to you. Lyrium and teeth, clever political maneuvers and minds so intelligent that they routinely surpass the vampire who sired them . . . prove to them that you are every bit as shrewd and powerful as I know you to be, and they will have no choice but to change their laughter into words of awe.
I did not do this to humiliate you, my Astarion. And I promise you that their whispers will turn to awe soon enough. It is no easy thing, to be the heir of a vampire who has never been typical . . . but I promise I did not set you up to fail.