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[ It's not quite a full rebuff of her words, but not quite there, yet, either; furthermore, it is a difficult question he asks. Not wanting to hurt others at any costs means occasionally taking on pain oneself-- and not hurting others because of not wanting to and the guilt that comes with it is indeed something one wishes to avoid. She knows this, because she she feels the same way, often.

Those with such self-sacrificial natures or those who put others before them, like Noctis, end up the ones neglecting themselves, internally hurting instead. What pain has been left inside has been rotting, hollowing him out like burrowed-through birch. She sees it in the weariness of his expression. ]

Remember what you said to me, not too long ago? About defending myself. [ "You're not a tool, or a weapon, or whatever. People can say what they want. They can think and feel. They can defend themselves when someone's attacking them. And they can speak up when they notice something's wrong. If you don't let yourself do all of that then you're acting like you're less than they are." ] You said that because... you didn't wish to see me hurt, didn't you?

[ There's a quiet, brief smile there as she recalls the memory-- betraying her fondness of it, how it reassured her, helped her, even if it now guilts her to view it in such a light when she probably should have asked him of his feelings then and not now. Her palm adjusts in his, spreading out his fingers to stretch them, then curling hers between once more. ]

It seems that... for all that the prophecy says you are the Chosen, or that your blood makes you royal [ Or special, or the exception, or any other iteration-- things that could have very well inflated his ego to insufferable levels... Instead, it's had the complete opposite effect.

His words back then... It dawns on her now (too late) that he could have, should have been speaking of himself, when he had been so freshly carrying a new, deep wound. ]

Just how long you've been living thinking yourself as less than everyone else?

Edited 2021-03-13 03:23 (UTC)

I... did. Of course I don't want that.

[He winces, knowing what she means. It wasn't so long ago that he'd forget the sentiment behind his own words. They'd been so easy to say, such a simple, firm statement of fact: that she isn't worth less, that she doesn't have to prove herself to anyone. It's easy to see her intent now, and the hypocrisy behind what he'd said to her versus what he says of himself. "The rules are different for me" wouldn't be an acceptable answer here, either. Nor does it answer the question she'd asked.

How long...?]

...I don't know.

[His mumble is reluctant, but honest. If he were to look back he can't draw a line between then and now; the "then" is nebulous, somewhere between childhood and when he'd awoken here after Bahamut handed down his fate to him and the Crystal began to drench him in its power whether he wanted it or not. He knows that the pressure at the back of his mind is newer, that presence of something big and frightful he'd mentioned to Ardyn months ago when the memories of the ring were still unexplained. He knows it seems to rouse itself more when he feels content than when he's distressed, and that's concerning but could just be a coincidence. He knows that living happily has a chance of making it harder to say goodbye to this life, and the one he'd been living back home. Maybe that's why the world becomes a hellscape while he's sleeping- fate wants to leave no chance for him to turn back.

That's... depressing, that he might be so unreliable. He closes his eyes, squashing that train of thought before he can chase it down another sinkhole he can't escape from. He's important in the grand scheme of things, but not that important.

Back to the question. How long.]

I don't know if it was ever... a thought like that. More like an instinct. Like- I know I had an easy life, most of the time. I got away with a lot I shouldn't have been able to. But I didn't get what I really wanted, either... I had to learn how to be okay with that, because there was more important stuff going on. Isn't that normal...?

[ It's difficult for her to say what is normal or not for the lives of others in an entirely different world, but what is rare, she imagines, in any world is the life of someone who is royal or someone who has the words fate and prophecy attached to them. She can imagine aspects of his life were cushioned, yet other parts (of what she knows of it) were anything but: a grave attack on him while younger that left him unable to walk and his powers irreversibly handicapped, then practically estranged from his father as the other was tied to the wall and politics, formative years full of relentless training and honing his magic as he came into adulthood, and then... loss after loss, after loss, followed by him giving up more and more and more of himself.

"More important stuff going on" would only reinforce viewing himself as less, what with those more important things being the war or duty, she presumes. Or, literally anyone else he'd place above himself regardless as his role as Chosen to protect. In light of all the conflict that surrounds his world and his upbringing, there wouldn't be enough time for him.

What he wanted in general, then, was-- is-- to not be hurt. Coping by thinking he was less served its purpose in his world, but in this one, that tool he's developed in order to push onward has revealed its claws. ]

If it's so painful to accept that you're worth not hurting or that you can want for better [ In a world away from his own, even. ] Then.... No, Noct. No. [ She shakes her head, looking down at him sadly. ]

I think that-- that 'normal' for you... It was just surviving as best as you knew how.

[He's quiet again, considering those words, meeting her eyes as long as he can stand to see her sorrow before glancing guiltily away. Even just this much must be hurting her to hear... which makes it harder to admit. But it's becoming increasingly obvious that burying it isn't helping, either.]

It's... weird to think of it as surviving. Makes it sound like I struggled just to live, but... I had everything handed to me up until the end.

[Things had been... difficult, the final few months in Eos. ...Okay, things had been a nightmare more often than not. But it was still- they'd gotten by okay. As far as he knows none of the others had reached a breaking point like this (right?) so what's his problem?]

During the fight with Era, she kept saying kind of similar stuff... not the same, but like- who she is, what she deserves versus what she wants, that sort of thing. I didn't like hearing that about her. [His eyes flit briefly up to meet hers, then away again.] Any more than you like hearing this, I think.

["The sole reason I exist is for others." He'd never have phrased it like that, but what he's been saying toes an uncomfortably similar line. If the needs of others come before his own, if his life exists only to be laid down for the world, if he downplays everything like it isn't affecting him when he clearly had, like- what, a panic attack because she told him it was okay to not let them hurt him? Aside from semantics what's the difference between admitting one and feeling the other? And what about how Pyra just quietly accepts whatever is thrown at her with little more than a smile, even if what's being thrown is shit she doesn't deserve? She doesn't, she just places them over her own comfort, but he'd tried to get her to stop because it's wrong how she lets them hurt her.

....

They're all hypocrites, aren't they.]

[ Her fingers brush through his hair again as her brow lowers, clinking together in thought, before relaxing.

It's very true: she doesn't like how he was hurt, and she doesn't like how he seems to accept it, as if he's simply been conditioned to. A breaking point had been today, clearly outlining that how he survives with this suffering, or how he copes and accepts that pain, doesn't work. Instead, it harms, and it's only today that she's seen it completely choke him.

There should be something better for him. She wants it to be better for him, she wants who he chooses as family to be better to him, but how...? ]

What or who... [ She whispers, breathlessly as if struggling, or perhaps in disbelief. ] is telling you that you deserve... this?

[ All this pain, that this is something he has to accept? ]

Nobody's telling me, [he starts, but... hesitates.

How long.]

I don't... think anyone's told me. [He can't put a specific name or a face to the words. They're just... there, sometimes. Reminding him. The closest he can think of is-] Bahamut... when he explained my fate. I know he meant sacrificed as in dying for Eos, but... maybe I took it too hard.

[Is he just- literally sacrificing whatever he's physically and mentally capable of when the situation occurs? He's felt undeniably unbalanced since returning from the Crystal, like he wasn't finished or shouldn't be here, but he's resisted that feeling at every turn as it can't be helped. The world will wait for him, the Crystal has to. He has no power to return, and he doesn't... want to. He's happy here.

But... what if the memories do come when he's too happy, because he's not meant to be and the gods know it.

They'd started off so innocent and innocuous; a sewn button, a baked pie. But then he'd seen Ardyn - Izunia - trapped in the immortal daemon form and hurting the world as he waits for his final release. He'd seen Ignis, risking his life with the ring to save Noct when he should have worried for himself. He remembered the early days of Somnus and Ardyn that had started them all on this dark path. They've getting worse. And he's handling it, he's fine, it's annoying, just...

His fingers tighten around hers.]

Maybe it's them. Or maybe it's just... me.

[Maybe he's just trying to point fingers at anything besides the grave he dug for himself, because if it's the Crystal or the gods then it can't be fixed, but if it's him then he has to take responsibility.]

[ In the end, she's not quite sure why she asked who or what this belief that him being less or hurt is the norm that he must accept-- because it doesn't quite matter in the bigger scheme of things. For if it is his gods, she cannot tell them otherwise. If it's only Noctis, then that's something she can only support in overcoming. More likely, it's a combination of both.

He had been fearful, upset, panicked moments ago, drowning as she guided him to breathe-- all from the idea of losing someone who had hurt him, from the idea that he can want for better, the idea that he shouldn't be hurt. He had this sort of reaction to this, instead of months ago when he had almost died in her arms-- and even before then, when he had witnessed his death in the future to come. Losing others is far worse to him than losing his own life. Being hurt himself is far less than hurting others. And so, he accepts being hurt.

Shamefully, it's taken her a year for her to realize the actual extent at which this claws at him. A whole year, when the signs were there...

Pyra leans over him, scooting back some so that she might bend a little more to have her arms crossed over his chest, dipping her head to his shoulder from behind. Before speaking any more, there she whispers, wanting to just hold him, and repeat this-- ] I love you, Noct.

[ --Because has she said it today? This very same morning, perhaps, but not since then, and so this is as good a time as any. She can't undo his inner turmoil, but she can try to understand and try to help and try to be there for him, even though it seems that month after month after month, something terrible befalls him, something hurts him, or someone hurts him. With so much sorrow hitting him, it really would seem as if he's not meant to be happy, because the future deems otherwise.

But she's here to battle and believe each and every time that it doesn't have to be this way for him. ] I love you, and... listen, please. You don't deserve to be hurt.

[Noctis allows himself to be repositioned, slumping back against her; his hand lifts to hold her forearm where it's wrapped around him, his thumb brushing idly up and down over her skin. It's strange how reassuring it is to hear what he knows already, what she's said countless times before. He doesn't need the reminder, but... he does like it. She's right, he really doesn't say it enough.

He can't even argue with the rest of it.]

I don't think it's ever really been about what I deserve.

[He was able to come to the conclusion, months ago and through a lot of struggling - and, blessedly, with her help yet again - that he's allowed to want to live, despite all expectations to the contrary. That he... deserves the life he's able to live in the time he has. He's not sure why that's not enough to quell the doubts he's been carrying, but they're two different trains of thought- living does not mean getting everything he wants out of life. It doesn't mean giving up everything, either. The balance is what's difficult.

Something's itching at the corner of his consciousness, like a gentle digging of claws on his soul. Familiar. His brows furrow, thinking for a long moment, and then murmurs,]

Will... you let Carbuncle in?

[ She leans up, looking down at him with a soft but reassuring smile as her hands pull back from his chest to his shoulders. ]

Carbuncle is welcome.

[ While she had brought him into the crystal, in reality she had lifted him to their room for privacy, where now he slumbers with his head upon her lap as she repeats the same motion of her fingers tenderly sifting through his hair.

She'll wait to feel Carbuncle's presence, and then gesture to the crystal upon her chest. ]

[Her agreement is known immediately; outside of the dream, a soft pressure materializes on the bed, tiny pawprints in the blanket padding closer. A weight climbs onto Noctis' sleeping form, up to his shoulder, and when she gestures, a paw touches the crystal to be pulled in.

Within the crystal Carbuncle appears in a flash of multicoloured light, fully visible to the both of them at last, and immediately climbs onto Noct's lap again. In its mouth is Noct's phone, which it deposits with a quiet chirp, and it buzzes against his chest when he retrieves it.

👋 😟 ]

Hey... hey, buddy. I didn't know that would actually work.

[ When Carbuncle joins them, Pyra's head lifts slightly to look at the new presence, for this is the first time she's ever seen the Messenger.

She smiles quietly at it, welcoming it to Elysium by reaching over to give it a small pet. ]

We're glad you're here.

[ It does beg the question of why Carbuncle wished to enter, and she suspects that it's like Umbra and Pryna, that they happen to know when their loved ones are hurt and are ready to go to comfort them. ]

Edited 2021-03-13 22:58 (UTC)

[Carbuncle yips again, tilting its big ears into her touch, and gives Noct's chest a light scritch with its front paw. Another message chimes through, and Noct holds it up at an angle that they both can see, though a part of him would love to keep it to himself. Carbuncle is often blunt and knows him as well as he knows himself, if not better. He really doesn't know what to expect- but as the message blips onto the screen, he's not surprised by the candid nature of it.]

You called me, so here I am! This habit's a tough one to kick, isn't it? Even with the big guy making it worse. 🐲

[ Her hand withdraws back to Noctis' shoulder as she reads the message.

Habit-- his nature of putting others before himself, of accepting what pain it brings. And... big guy.

She squints just a bit at the emoji. ] ...Bahamut.

[ Finally, 'making it worse'. Her brow furrows. Isn't Bahamut the Messenger's boss, or something of the sort? ] Does this mean.... It's not just Noct?

[Carbuncle chirps again, the phone pinging with a thumbs up, and Noctis furrows his brows. What... the hell does that mean.]

Hang on... he's not even here, though. How could he be doing anything to me?

[The phone buzzes again.]

The Draconian's claws sink deep. I don't know for sure what's happened, but it's a done deal. 🎯 🤕 I know you can figure something out, though! You're strong, and you're not alone.

[While the faith is appreciated, the confirmation itself isn't: that 1) there's something beyond his control influencing him and 2) there might not be anything to be done about it. Noctis brushes his fingers through Carbuncle's fur, allowing those words to sink in, then glances back at Pyra.]

Not just me... what does that mean? How would I tell where one ends and the other starts?

[ It's a troubling revelation, implying that his will and/or personality is being impeded by a force greater than him.

However, she's immeasurably grateful to hear that whatever influences him to be so self-sacrificing, it isn't completely taken over him. Which means... there can be a balance. (Rather, she hopes there can be.) Pyra looks at Carbuncle. ]

I'm.... Not sure.

Have you ever felt as if-- when you mentioned you >wish to live, as if you were hitting a wall of some sort, fighting against that thought? Or, ah, even now, when thinking of not being hurt, like there was something [ She fumbles a bit, struggling to come up with an idea of how any of this might work, whatever imposition the crystal or Bahamut placed on him. ] automatically countering those wants?

[He thinks back carefully, rolling through the memories of when it might have come up. It's difficult to categorize them, in truth- he doesn't exactly track when he's thinking about that sort of thing. A few stand out, rare enough to not be automatically considered a pattern but still kind of... suspicious.]

I don't... know if it means anything. Might just be coincidence. But I talked to Ardyn about this weird kinda pressure in my head, at some point when we got into the prophecy stuff, when I got a memory from the ring. And there've been other times when it's come up, and... not too long after, another memory. As far as I could tell they don't even mean anything, and there's nothing connecting the memories, but what if they are? What if that's how Bahamut's doing it?

[He used to maintain his own thoughts, his worth, his future, his happiness. He wasn't always happy but he was at least content with the life he'd lead back home. There'd even been plenty of moments where he was fine with just getting by, where he didn't get what he wanted but he got enough, there'd been countless incidents that got him to smile and enjoy the world and the company he kept. He hadn't thought about being happy to be alive because his life was in his own hands, for the most part. He followed the whims of the gods, but the choices were his own enough that he was satisfied.

And then came the Crystal... Bahamut's revelation... and suddenly the choice to live is significant, not just a foregone conclusion. And suddenly those memories were invading his thoughts to remind him who he was.]

[ What if they are? That every time he attempts to think that he might have better, there is a force greater than him blocking him from moving forward, that despite what he's already reached, he cannot cross a certain threshold to act on his own wants. If that is with what they must settle, then-- it's cruel. She doesn't want to believe it, that this wall is something he must repeatedly hit when he gets too close to wanting something better for himself. Even through all of what he's endured, he's still being denied...?

She looks to Carbuncle as if it might give her the answers she seeks, but when she finds none, her head dips to the side as she thinks. What grief it is, to finally meet Noctis' closest Messenger under such tragic circumstances. It should have been a joyous occasion, but it seems that's rarely the case with him. Luck and fate never seem to be in his favor. It shouldn't be that way, not for him, but to say it aloud would only voice something that's obvious. So, then, what now, what's the bigger picture at which she might look, where do they go from here, now that they know this?

...

Her gaze lifts to Noctis', seeing the swirl of questions and anxieties in his expression. What he's positing is a grim scenario, one in which he might never win against. She wants to halt those thoughts right in their track. ]

Mm... Hey. Focus.

[ Focus, she says, with a hand running through his hair, and it's a word she's often used with him before whenever she's shared her power with him. ] If Bahamut has this hold on you...

Then we focus on what we can do, here and now.

[ That focus being him, himself. ] Because... you're not in your world.

[Not in his world... right. That's right. What's going on isn't just there, it's here. And what he has here is good. It's always so hard to focus on that fact, with everything that's conspired to drown him in more grim thoughts since he left home, but she's done wonders at reminding him to think more positively. He's... going to try. Again.

He meets her gaze, allowing her calm expression to help unruffle his deep-seated nerves, until at last he's able to nod, breathe deep, and think.]

I'm not... which means these are just memories. They're not messages, and... he can't punish me for not doing something that can't be done here.

[He's not disobeying the gods. This isn't like when Titan was sending him headaches, when he was adventuring through Lucis doing everything except what the Archaean wanted, which was to visit him. He can't get himself home, he can't climb into any crystal here (except Pyra's) and absorb its power, he can't kill the Accursed (Ardyn doesn't count). He can't die to bring back the dawn because this world's dawn isn't his to fix.]

They're just memories. If I can remember that, then... they won't have any power.

[When they invade his mind, he can shove them back into the corner of his mind where they belong. He's already begun doing that, so it can't be too hard to continue, right? He only has to practice at it. Focus... focus. Just like she said.

In his lap, Carbuncle seems to smile, tail wagging as if it's proud of the conclusion Noct has reached.]

[ It's easier to say it than to practice it, and she knows that even if he says it here, that those memories and Bahamut's influence may hover over him regardless. If the memories come intrusively, if the pressure make him not want better continues every time he tries, then the 'punishment' is automatic, something out of his control. That is the power they exert, an anxiety with which he must grapple-- or more accurately, fear, from the look of panic she had seen on his expression mere minutes ago. Yet she smiles more easily at the thought that this can be a start. A good one.

She's silent for a few moments longer as she looks down at him, allowing his words to take their hold in the world around them. "They won't have any power."

They have to believe that, and they have to continue to believe it, it make it real. She nods quietly. ]

Away from... your world and your gods...

[ Another thought occurs to her as she mulls over both his words and her own. Then she inhales, quiet, as a soft breeze rustles the leaves above them, causing its soft shadows to dance upon the tall, green prairie around them. ]

I don't want you trapped by this.

And being here... [ Having these choices, being told that he can have these choices to want better-- ] It's--... the first time you've ever had freedom, isn't it?

[ She's willing to fight for this, for him. She will fight for it. ]

[He glances up and away, following that rustling breeze, somewhat evasive and reluctant to agree with her last question. It isn't wrong, and it isn't right either. Freedom is such a complex thing to claim.]

It's... a different kind. Dad gave me way more freedom than a prince should've had, but I couldn't leave the city, and I had to always remember who and what I am. And then when we left Insomnia, I could go where I wanted, no one knew who I was, but then the gods got to tell me what to do.

[He lifts his hands in a somewhat helpless gesture, trying to smile.]

Here's... the best combination. I can do what I want because I'm not royal, the gods usually stay out of my way, but the walls are back. It's the most free I've ever been, and I'll take what I can get. At least this time it's fair.

[It sounds so depressing, laid out like that. As if he'll never be truly free. But at least here it's an even playing field- everyone is in the same boat, they all share the same fate of being trapped in this world, in this city, but otherwise free to live their own lives. He's no longer other, the king expected to rule or save or die for all the rest. It's as he's told her before- he's just Noctis, here, and that's something he's wanted his whole life.]

[ When he finishes speaking, her fingers dust down the side of his cheek affectionately. His words still sound as if he's settling for less, as if this is the best he might have.

When she had first arrived, she had immediately taken any chance she'd get to engage in contact with another-- firstly, to restore this world; second, for her own, deeply tragic reasons; and thirdly, if she were to privately admit it, a want to be able to hold another's hand after being sealed for so long. Those three points have not changed in the entire year she has been here. Now comes a fourth: to restore this world for his sake, so that he doesn't have to settle for less. She hopes that, if and when this world may be more restored, the barrier that surrounds the city will collapse to allow him to have both being "just Noctis" with his own free choices... and the opportunity to travel as freely as he wishes.

Architect, but she so sorely wishes that for him. Yet-- ] I'm worried, Noct...

[ "I'll take what I can get."

--That's fair, but when he applies that to matters of family, it's that sort of mentality that will have him be hurt again, and accept that hurt as par for the course. ]

...That you'll accept anything, because you've had so little of it before. [ In terms of choices, freedom, and family. Scraps, polluted and toxic, are still something he can hold close to his heart, and when she thinks of what a lonely child he had been, cautious and wanting to not burden others, not asking for anything-- of course it makes sense that he'll accept whatever is given to him. In this world, those he has here are all he has left, because when he'll return to his world, he'll soon have nothing, because he'll give the last of himself to all. ] And when you return to your world... you'll soon have to give everything away.

[ She doesn't like bringing it up, this future of his, but perhaps it's necessary to point out what may be driving him to believe this is all for which he might settle. Even as he attempts a smile, his words alone betray how deeply ingrained in him this is.

"I can't--" He had struggled to say, moments ago. "I can't."

Her eyes close, then open, watching him sympathetically, and hoping dearly that conveying her worry won't make him feel more guilty for sharing this all with her. Don't settle, she wants to tell him. It's okay to want to not be hurt, she wants to repeat. But she wants to help him figure out, Bahamut's influence aside, this block against wanting better for himself is coming from. ]

[His brows furrow at that, as if he'd offered the wrong answer but couldn't fathom another. It's not like he'd expected this conversation to easily reassure her- he's self-aware enough to recognize that he's in a bad state to be comforting anyone. Still, isn't it... good... to accept and appreciate what he has? He wants to take what he can get now because it won't be long before he has nothing. Before he is nothing. He's... not sure.]

What's the alternative? [He's hesitant, but has to ask; he's worried that he's missed something critical.] I'd rather have some than none, you know? Love and family, it's... never gonna be perfect.

[What they have is imperfect sometimes, but he's happy, and he wants it. The people he loves make him feel good more often than they don't. Plus it's not like he's some paragon of perfect virtue. He's hurt plenty of them before, likely in ways he's not even aware of.

Isn't that enough? Even if... it hurts, like this.

Carbuncle reaches up to rest a paw lightly against his chest, dark eyes looking straight into his, as if they could reach right to his soul. His phone pings.]

Remember your dad. He didn't like that memory of yours, did he?

[Noctis blinks.] Dad...

[Of course he hadn't liked the memory- finding out how he'd changed over the years, how cold and distant they'd become in that moment, unable to share how they truly felt. What father would want to know his son carried such miserable thoughts the last time they'd ever speak to one another?

"By the Astrals," he'd said when it was over, "What did I do?"

He'd been... horrified. By his own behaviour. He'd apologized, as if he did something wrong. But he hadn't, it was normal, he was doing his job as king and Noctis was just being a brat who wanted more than-

-ah. He takes a sharp breath in.]

[ She can understand the sentiment of having some than nothing at all, of being grateful for what one has in the present. They're very alike in that regard, reflections of each other for not daring to ask for better, even if she wants him to have better. Relationships are not perfect, people are nuanced, and even if something becomes rocky or broken, bonds can be repaired.

...But she believes he's doing it again, it's happening in real time: he's diminishing his own pain-- and it's as if he doesn't see it-- or remember it when just moments ago, he had been been choking because of this. She looks at him is disbelief, then concern. That's not a little thing, that's an extreme reaction, one that clearly signals something is wrong. So quick he is to be concerned for others, but when it comes to himself, he doesn't realize the gravity of it.

She's about to express some of these thoughts, but Carbuncle messages him. Her brow furrows, puzzled as she reads it, and when she hears his sharp inhale, she pauses. ] ...What is it?

[ It sounds as if he's realized something. ]

[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."

He can ask-]

[ He says that as if he's surprised someone would apologize to him, and that he's surprised at all is telling. Perhaps it's happened so scarcely to him in the past, or perhaps the standard of his life is that when someone hurts him, no one does apologize, or that he believes that carrying such pain is normal. Maybe it's both, or maybe it's possible there's far more to it. She can't very well unravel every reason for why he might be so accepting of being hurt; what she knows is that he seems to accept this as normal for what family is.

She hadn't had a family until coming here, and even she knows that isn't how it's supposed to be. What she's seen, here and now, is more damage done than that would have been done by loss itself. A healthy idea of a relationship is... includes being feeling comfortable, loved, accepted... and safe in another's presence. ]

...Is that so novel?

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