[Gods. He starts and stops a few times, deleting and retyping, for this is not the way he would have chosen to have this discussion. But nor will he put it off, for perhaps it is long overdue.
(And he thinks again of that first night when they laid in bed together. What do you mean you were property, and for as long as he lives, Fenris will never forget the horror in Astarion's voice— nor the frantic, misplaced offer that followed. It fills him with bittersweet grief and gratitude all at once, a tangle of emotions he has yet to sort through— but it also means that he's more patient than he might otherwise be.]
Education was only for those who could afford it. I had no studies, Astarion. I simply had Varania— and when she was old enough to follow me around, she kept me company while I worked, until the day came that she, too, was able enough to be put to work.
It is not an uncommon story: a family who was in so much debt they were drowning could not afford to send an able pair of hands out to idle the day away with lessons. What use was history or science when compared to the additional money I could bring in? It was not forbidden, not officially, but it was a rare person who could ever manage it anyway. And in that way, the magisters kept us all beneath their boots.
My mother knew how to read— a rarity. She taught the rudimentary basics to me, and I have learned more since then.
Someday soon, perhaps, I will show you how expensive it is to be poor. And how little education matters when faced with the prospect of an empty belly or fending for yourself on the streets.
But . . .
Less lonely, yes. That, I think, you have the right of, for there were no shortage of children whose families were in the same pit mine was.
[. . .]
Do not think it an entirely miserable past— and do not take my words as condemnation for your question, for I [...] am unused to speaking of this. I have never done it before. But my past is a part of me, and one I would share with you.
no subject
(And he thinks again of that first night when they laid in bed together. What do you mean you were property, and for as long as he lives, Fenris will never forget the horror in Astarion's voice— nor the frantic, misplaced offer that followed. It fills him with bittersweet grief and gratitude all at once, a tangle of emotions he has yet to sort through— but it also means that he's more patient than he might otherwise be.]
Education was only for those who could afford it. I had no studies, Astarion. I simply had Varania— and when she was old enough to follow me around, she kept me company while I worked, until the day came that she, too, was able enough to be put to work.
It is not an uncommon story: a family who was in so much debt they were drowning could not afford to send an able pair of hands out to idle the day away with lessons. What use was history or science when compared to the additional money I could bring in? It was not forbidden, not officially, but it was a rare person who could ever manage it anyway. And in that way, the magisters kept us all beneath their boots.
My mother knew how to read— a rarity. She taught the rudimentary basics to me, and I have learned more since then.
Someday soon, perhaps, I will show you how expensive it is to be poor. And how little education matters when faced with the prospect of an empty belly or fending for yourself on the streets.
But . . .
Less lonely, yes. That, I think, you have the right of, for there were no shortage of children whose families were in the same pit mine was.
[. . .]
Do not think it an entirely miserable past— and do not take my words as condemnation for your question, for I [...] am unused to speaking of this. I have never done it before. But my past is a part of me, and one I would share with you.