[They didn't hold a candle to you, and he hears that line for what it is. Tentative confusion and an attempt at peacekeeping— a sailor struggling to navigate by an unfamiliar star, but the problem is, that only makes it worse. The fact that no one in his life has ever objected to this—
Or perhaps he is being too bold. Perhaps it isn't as broad as that.
Perhaps no one has ever cared.
What does his lord father worry about, after all? His image. How it looks to have his eldest son fucking his way through every hired hand, and, perhaps, how much money it will cost to cover up such a minor scandal. How such a thing affects Astarion's future prospects and their good name, and the risk that comes of not breaking his son of such a habit before he comes of age.
But not that his son so easily seduces all that cross his path. Not that his son, still so young even at seventy-five, has found that two dozen different tutors and bodyguards are so easily swayed from their duties by the lure of pale thighs and a sharp grin. And Fenris can't articulate why, exactly, the thought offends him so, save that it isn't real. Save that such people should have known better, no matter that their charge might have sulked or panted or seduced with all his might.]
You should have told me.
[It's a strained thing, his mouth a thin line as he finally looks back at Astarion. The grip on his jaw eases and then drops, though some part of Fenris mourns the loss of contact. But he doesn't pull away from those slender fingers caressing his wrist, and that's something.]
I'm here for your protection. That includes tutors who do not know better than to keep their hands to themselves. And you deserve better than to have to resort to such things in order to be rid of someone so inept.
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Or perhaps he is being too bold. Perhaps it isn't as broad as that.
Perhaps no one has ever cared.
What does his lord father worry about, after all? His image. How it looks to have his eldest son fucking his way through every hired hand, and, perhaps, how much money it will cost to cover up such a minor scandal. How such a thing affects Astarion's future prospects and their good name, and the risk that comes of not breaking his son of such a habit before he comes of age.
But not that his son so easily seduces all that cross his path. Not that his son, still so young even at seventy-five, has found that two dozen different tutors and bodyguards are so easily swayed from their duties by the lure of pale thighs and a sharp grin. And Fenris can't articulate why, exactly, the thought offends him so, save that it isn't real. Save that such people should have known better, no matter that their charge might have sulked or panted or seduced with all his might.]
You should have told me.
[It's a strained thing, his mouth a thin line as he finally looks back at Astarion. The grip on his jaw eases and then drops, though some part of Fenris mourns the loss of contact. But he doesn't pull away from those slender fingers caressing his wrist, and that's something.]
I'm here for your protection. That includes tutors who do not know better than to keep their hands to themselves. And you deserve better than to have to resort to such things in order to be rid of someone so inept.