[He takes a few long breaths, squeezing her hand to acknowledge the question but wanting to work through some of these thoughts first. Why would his dad be so horrified by what's been normal for - surely - generations? He didn't want to be like his father, yes, but he wasn't. Everything Noctis had heard about Mors was cold, calculating, stern. For Regis, it had just been a moment in time where he'd seemed that way, but in truth they were...
...they were...
He looks at Carbuncle again, who does not even blink, simply stares and waits. Slowly his shoulders slump, defeated, recognizing what is being asked of him here, and... kind of hating it, actually. He doesn't want anyone to be wrong but him.]
A while back... Dad got a memory of mine, when I was pissed at him. It was the day we left Insomnia, so... the last time we ever spoke. I was angry because he blew me off the night before, when we were supposed to talk about everything that was going on. The war, the treaty, the wedding, all of it. But he cancelled, so we only talked in the throne room. It... wasn't a good look for him, I guess.
["What did I do?" Those words will resonate in him for a long time. How it wasn't fair, that a single moment would make him question what kind of father he was.]
He was... horrified. I'd never seen him look like that, and I hated that it hurt him. I told him it was okay, that it was more about me than him. I... don't think he believed me. He thanked me for not hating him. As if I ever could, no matter what he did.
[He'd thought it as a child as well, before the Marilith attack. I hate him. He doesn't care. And then he'd nearly died, and his father saved him, called his name and held his hand as he slept, and he'd felt ashamed of his own thoughts afterwards, both times. But the way Regis spoke made it sound as if he wouldn't have blamed Noctis for hating him. As if... what he'd done shouldn't be okay. As if breaking promises too many times to count over the course of a lifetime wasn't normal. As if his greatest fear shouldn't have been that he'd be found so inept that he would be abandoned entirely, because he'd been made to believe he was worth less than all that came before him.
"If that is what family here is meant to feel like then I don't want any part of it." That had been the response he'd received, when he expressed that he was hurt. To share his pain, his weakness, meant losing family. The same had happened on the train, when his paralyzing grief had pushed his friends away from him when they were counting on him.
I can't, he'd said. He can't share it, because if he does, it hurts more, not less.
But that apology of his dad's, it stuck with him. There was something to apologize for. His feelings were valid. He was... allowed... to not want to be hurt.
His hand tightens again, and he takes another slow, shaken breath, closing his eyes. When he looks up, he seeks out Pyra's gaze, surprised by the memory all over again.]
He... apologized to me.
[And Gladio apologized for the train incident, despite Noctis not even seeking one out. Ardyn apologized for the future despite not even having done anything yet. They apologized for hurting him.
" You shouldn’t have to tolerate being harmed by them. You can ask to not be hurt."
no subject
...they were...
He looks at Carbuncle again, who does not even blink, simply stares and waits. Slowly his shoulders slump, defeated, recognizing what is being asked of him here, and... kind of hating it, actually. He doesn't want anyone to be wrong but him.]
A while back... Dad got a memory of mine, when I was pissed at him. It was the day we left Insomnia, so... the last time we ever spoke. I was angry because he blew me off the night before, when we were supposed to talk about everything that was going on. The war, the treaty, the wedding, all of it. But he cancelled, so we only talked in the throne room. It... wasn't a good look for him, I guess.
["What did I do?" Those words will resonate in him for a long time. How it wasn't fair, that a single moment would make him question what kind of father he was.]
He was... horrified. I'd never seen him look like that, and I hated that it hurt him. I told him it was okay, that it was more about me than him. I... don't think he believed me. He thanked me for not hating him. As if I ever could, no matter what he did.
[He'd thought it as a child as well, before the Marilith attack. I hate him. He doesn't care. And then he'd nearly died, and his father saved him, called his name and held his hand as he slept, and he'd felt ashamed of his own thoughts afterwards, both times. But the way Regis spoke made it sound as if he wouldn't have blamed Noctis for hating him. As if... what he'd done shouldn't be okay. As if breaking promises too many times to count over the course of a lifetime wasn't normal. As if his greatest fear shouldn't have been that he'd be found so inept that he would be abandoned entirely, because he'd been made to believe he was worth less than all that came before him.
"If that is what family here is meant to feel like then I don't want any part of it." That had been the response he'd received, when he expressed that he was hurt. To share his pain, his weakness, meant losing family. The same had happened on the train, when his paralyzing grief had pushed his friends away from him when they were counting on him.
I can't, he'd said. He can't share it, because if he does, it hurts more, not less.
But that apology of his dad's, it stuck with him. There was something to apologize for. His feelings were valid. He was... allowed... to not want to be hurt.
His hand tightens again, and he takes another slow, shaken breath, closing his eyes. When he looks up, he seeks out Pyra's gaze, surprised by the memory all over again.]
He... apologized to me.
[And Gladio apologized for the train incident, despite Noctis not even seeking one out. Ardyn apologized for the future despite not even having done anything yet. They apologized for hurting him.
" You shouldn’t have to tolerate being harmed by them. You can ask to not be hurt."
He can ask-]