[It's an interesting answer, but he knows better than to press just yet. But still: important, Fenris thinks to himself, for an insignificant slave knows far more firmly who the master's favorites are. Perhaps he had to vie for it; perhaps his master was particularly skilled in making him feel worthless and replaceable. But important, Fenris thinks, and puts the question to rest for the time being.
Instead: he watches the hesitance play out over the other elf's form. The darting flashes of crimson beneath black lashes; the way he draws breath and thinks better of it, fingers curling, his shoulders curled in on himself. And he wonders, vaguely, when the last time Astarion had been allowed to ask a question was.]
Important.
[Oh, yes. The word slips easily off his tongue, but there's a thread of bitter anger woven in those words. His years post-Kirkwall have not done his temper any favors, nor his bitterness.]
I was his dog. And I kept him safe for many years from assassinations, Qunari raids, petty theft, and all the other things a powerful magister has to field. I was not let off my leash for any reason, and I did not leave his estates unless he wished for protection.
no subject
Instead: he watches the hesitance play out over the other elf's form. The darting flashes of crimson beneath black lashes; the way he draws breath and thinks better of it, fingers curling, his shoulders curled in on himself. And he wonders, vaguely, when the last time Astarion had been allowed to ask a question was.]
Important.
[Oh, yes. The word slips easily off his tongue, but there's a thread of bitter anger woven in those words. His years post-Kirkwall have not done his temper any favors, nor his bitterness.]
I was his dog. And I kept him safe for many years from assassinations, Qunari raids, petty theft, and all the other things a powerful magister has to field. I was not let off my leash for any reason, and I did not leave his estates unless he wished for protection.