[Ah, but this part he minds less. There's no less anger, of course, and there never will be— but some of the bitterness seeps out of his tone, replaced by something far more satisfied. A twisted smirk flashes over Fenris' face, there and gone, as he deliberately meets Astarion's gaze.]
But was is the only tense he will ever use now. I ran from him a decade— more than a decade ago now, [he realizes abruptly.] And when he tired of my killing all his bounty hunters and slavers and came after me himself, I broke his neck and left his corpse to rot in the dump.
[And how bright it sounds. How heroic he makes himself seem, and it isn't that he's trying to puff himself up, understand. He isn't a gloryhound, seeking Astarion's awe nor his praise. But Fenris has dealt with so many runaways now; he's dealt with so many more who quake in terror at the thought of heading to Tevinter, certain that once they're taken, that's all there ever is.
So he does not say: I was so scared. He does not say: if my friends had sold me out, I would have buckled and broken, no matter how many years of freedom I had behind me. He does not mention how his stomach had curdled with humiliation and rage (the boy is rather talented, isn't he?); he makes it into a fairy tale, and maybe it's for his sake as much as Astarion's.
no subject
[Ah, but this part he minds less. There's no less anger, of course, and there never will be— but some of the bitterness seeps out of his tone, replaced by something far more satisfied. A twisted smirk flashes over Fenris' face, there and gone, as he deliberately meets Astarion's gaze.]
But was is the only tense he will ever use now. I ran from him a decade— more than a decade ago now, [he realizes abruptly.] And when he tired of my killing all his bounty hunters and slavers and came after me himself, I broke his neck and left his corpse to rot in the dump.
[And how bright it sounds. How heroic he makes himself seem, and it isn't that he's trying to puff himself up, understand. He isn't a gloryhound, seeking Astarion's awe nor his praise. But Fenris has dealt with so many runaways now; he's dealt with so many more who quake in terror at the thought of heading to Tevinter, certain that once they're taken, that's all there ever is.
So he does not say: I was so scared. He does not say: if my friends had sold me out, I would have buckled and broken, no matter how many years of freedom I had behind me. He does not mention how his stomach had curdled with humiliation and rage (the boy is rather talented, isn't he?); he makes it into a fairy tale, and maybe it's for his sake as much as Astarion's.
It's better to be admired than pitied.]
A pet no longer. Nor ever again.