[A thousand desperate plans to prevent a fate that seemed relentlessly inevitable. A thousand what-ifs always running through his mind, his eyes constantly darting around the room like a rat in a cage, his ears always straining for the sound of footsteps, he's coming, he's coming, he's coming—
It's been so long since Danarius has died, but Leto has never forgotten that terror. That nauseating, breathless panic that festered in his chest and boiled in his veins. It wasn't until long after his corpse was rotting on the Hanged Man's floorboards did Leto finally feel that merciless weight lift.
So none of those thoughts surprise him; he hums his agreement, listening to each and every one, knowing them for what they are: comfort in the eye of the storm. An attempt at finding solid ground, even when there's none to have.]
I can think of a few families who had a worse beginning, [he murmurs into Astarion's hair, the joke as humorless as his husband's earlier laugh. He presses another kiss to his forehead, then adds:] But not many. It is a rare sibling-in-law that tries to bite a chunk out of you.
[There's another long moment of quiet, for this is a conversation filled with endless ebbs and flows. Leto watches the lights play out over their bed, half-imagining he can feel the thoughts racing through Astarion's mind as he goes over the ones already articulated.]
This was inevitable, amatus. We knew that from the start. And when trouble came to our doorstep, we sent it running.
[There's no pity in his voice, but no condemnation either. He cannot afford to pity Astarion's siblings, not now, but nor does he revile them the way he does Cazador.]
Tonight is not your only opportunity. It's true we must act, and soon— but you lost nothing tonight. In fact . . . I would argue you gained an advantage.
[It isn't that Astarion doesn't know all this. He spent so long hunting, after all, and tactics are far from an unknown to him. But it's Leto whose mind is calm right now. It's Leto whose thoughts lay out in methodical pieces on a chessboard, moves and countermoves playing out in his imagination.]
He expected you alone, and found you with an ally. Now, I suspect, he will think he has the measure of you, but he has no idea there are more than he could ever dream ready to fight at your side.
[But that's for later. Planning their attack, weighing what's known versus what might be guessed, plotting their movements and timing . . . that will come tomorrow, when dawn's light breaks and there is some relief to be found.]
no subject
It's been so long since Danarius has died, but Leto has never forgotten that terror. That nauseating, breathless panic that festered in his chest and boiled in his veins. It wasn't until long after his corpse was rotting on the Hanged Man's floorboards did Leto finally feel that merciless weight lift.
So none of those thoughts surprise him; he hums his agreement, listening to each and every one, knowing them for what they are: comfort in the eye of the storm. An attempt at finding solid ground, even when there's none to have.]
I can think of a few families who had a worse beginning, [he murmurs into Astarion's hair, the joke as humorless as his husband's earlier laugh. He presses another kiss to his forehead, then adds:] But not many. It is a rare sibling-in-law that tries to bite a chunk out of you.
[There's another long moment of quiet, for this is a conversation filled with endless ebbs and flows. Leto watches the lights play out over their bed, half-imagining he can feel the thoughts racing through Astarion's mind as he goes over the ones already articulated.]
This was inevitable, amatus. We knew that from the start. And when trouble came to our doorstep, we sent it running.
[There's no pity in his voice, but no condemnation either. He cannot afford to pity Astarion's siblings, not now, but nor does he revile them the way he does Cazador.]
Tonight is not your only opportunity. It's true we must act, and soon— but you lost nothing tonight. In fact . . . I would argue you gained an advantage.
[It isn't that Astarion doesn't know all this. He spent so long hunting, after all, and tactics are far from an unknown to him. But it's Leto whose mind is calm right now. It's Leto whose thoughts lay out in methodical pieces on a chessboard, moves and countermoves playing out in his imagination.]
He expected you alone, and found you with an ally. Now, I suspect, he will think he has the measure of you, but he has no idea there are more than he could ever dream ready to fight at your side.
[But that's for later. Planning their attack, weighing what's known versus what might be guessed, plotting their movements and timing . . . that will come tomorrow, when dawn's light breaks and there is some relief to be found.]
Which was which, among your siblings?