[ Even a neutral reaction is somewhat telling and he resists the urge to groan his frustration with himself, instead back to avoiding eye contact as he indulges in a quiet exhale that's a little too close to a sigh. Fuck. Sure, he hasn't been as subtle as he's wanted to be. That hurts his argument that this was a precaution. Now? It's as if he lied for nothing.
Like he distrusted Markus for nothing. ]
You got pretty close to it before, so...
My full name's Noctis Lucis Caelum. Crown prince... or now, only living heir to the throne. Calling myself a king still doesn't feel right.
[Markus wouldn't view it like that. Noctis had been in a new world, supplanted into confusing circumstances, with no one familiar to anchor himself to. Being overcautious wasn’t surprising; Markus knows already knows of someone else who’s chosen a faux network ID, and he’s sure there’s likely more instances that he simply isn’t aware of. And being torn from a war, being such an important figure to his nation — a(n admittedly weak) fake name made sense to implement.
It’s confirmation, though, of what he had suspected. Markus stops pretending otherwise.]
After all you’ve told me… I think I already knew.
[Even so, only now does he look at the other as if cast under a new light. What the true weight of responsibility means to Noctis, back when they had spoken about pushing forward, about the advice his father had given him.]
And you’ve always had the look of someone shouldering more than what just a guard would. [Transient proof at best, but the kind that Markus is good at pinning down in others — reading what lies behind the immediately apparent.]
Ahh, if it's written on my face then I guess I'm not doing a good job of keeping it low-key... [ He smoothes back slowly growing hair but it's only too quick to fall back into his face, shielding young features from a mismatched gaze. ]
I always heard the opposite. That I didn't have the right bearing or I "spoke too freely"... there's a lot of that when you grow up a prince. It gets old really quick. [ Or, more recently, he's heard it from Cor, Gladio, Cid... ]
... sorry. That I didn't say something sooner, I mean. Everything else I said was real, so...
[A statement that comes swiftly. He'll have no guilt on Noctis' part for keeping it to himself, not if he can help ease it even by the smallest fraction. And Markus takes a moment to consider the criticisms brought against him, regarding the "bearing" of royalty.]
You don't, really, have much of a regal bearing. [Maybe not a helpful reinforcement against something that the other found "old", but he has a point he's making-] But that wasn't what made me think you were more than just a guard. The way you spoke in the hospital... about pushing forward, about responsibility.
[He can't catch Noctis' eyes like this, but the words might as well have the same effect, so purposefully spoken.]
[ Now the fingers of his good hand find his sling, picking at fabric idly as he listens. Not much regal bearing? Right... that much he knew. But then Markus continues, keeping him silent. ]
I still need to apologize. Sure, I had a good reason... but that doesn't take away the fact that you were honest with me and I wasn't honest back. That was pretty obviously wrong.
Look... You're a leader too, and you didn't have someone to show you how to get ready for something specifically like that like I did. So... if I think of more advice from him, I'll share it with you. Okay?
[If Noctis is wont to press the apology, then Markus won't make a second attempt at denying it.]
Then I accept your apology. And I forgive you, in case you're still feeling guilty about it.
[Something somber settles in him at the offer, though. Feels like melancholy, or the ghost of it, entangled with an imperceptible gratitude.]
I'd like that. Following the advice and example of someone who- [His lips twist into something wry.] -was wiser than the both of us combined, I imagine.
Yeah... Thanks, Markus. [ ... ] I'm not saying I was feeling guilty, but maybe I was, a little. I dunno. When you said all that stuff about Carl... I mean, I wanted to tell you then. A little glad I didn't, though, since I'd had so many pain pills.
[ Wow, Noctis, stop talking. ]
He was always giving me lectures when I was a kid that I didn't get but now they make more sense.
[ His hesitation is visible though it isn't pained like it was before -- where does he start? What does he say about him, that would do him justice? ]
You really wanna' hear about that? I can, just... Are you seriously comfortable sitting there like that? You can sit on the bed too or we can go in the living room or something, if you wanna' have a whole conversation about it.
This is where he'd groan and flop back down on the bed if he were dealing with one of the members of his retinue, always one to mope and dwell in privacy. But Markus? It feels worse to deny him when he's doing something that is admittedly good for him, so Noctis reluctantly forces himself to stand. ]
... I'm not melancholic. I'm fine normally, I just haven't brought that part up a lot. [ Since it happened, since his father was murdered. Maybe that's the problem. ]
[Markus could argue the point — knowing what words to apply when one finds themselves too lost in their own head — but he won’t. Sees no need, not when Noctis is willing to have this conversation with him.
So just a-] I understand. [-as he guides them out of the room, down the short hallway, and into the living area. Markus doesn’t need to tell him that he can sit wherever he likes, and the android settles at one end of the couch.]
It isn’t exactly a topic that comes up in everyday conversation. But it’s good to not leave these kind of thoughts lingering for too long.
[ He busies himself on the short walk with fussing at his hair, pinching at a lock here or there to smooth them down. A vain habit, and, on some occasions, a nervous one. When Noctis is given the option of choosing a spot to sit, however, he chooses to perch on the opposite end of that couch on its arm, bare feet planting on the cushion so he can face him.
It's not the back of a car but he'll treat it like one. ]
"Lingering"... [ It's a bit of a scoff; that's hard to hold back completely. ] That makes it sound like talking about it makes that stuff go away.
[Knowing the pain of loss, especially of loss sudden and unexpected, Markus doesn’t expect it to ever fade. Only for its edges, someday, to be dulled with the slow crawl of time.
He would hope so, at least, for his own sake, too.
The ghost of a scoff is barely given a second thought.]
But it can help, sharing memories with someone else.
[ Noctis chews on the words while he sits there, another deep breath into his lungs meant to give him courage but the exhalation just makes him feel empty. ]
... things could get pretty rough with us sometimes, but even when I was mad I knew he was trying to do the best for us. It's really annoying trying to argue with somebody like that. I guess... it's hard, being a subject and a son at the same time. Couldn't have been easier being a king and a dad.
[He can’t hope to have a frame of reference, of course, though he knows the sense of duty can be so strong that it overrides much else. A king’s obligation to his people, versus a father’s obligation to his son. Markus wonders at the balancing act both sides of a person might require.
And thus prompting the question:] Were you often able to draw a line between the two? To enjoy time together as just… father and son?
[ The question makes his lips quirk like he wants to smile and yet... he doesn't. About so much else his feelings are too fucking complicated, always a repressed swirl that he hides behind a falsely aloof demeanor so he can keep his head above water but this? Just makes him feel unavoidably sad. ]
You know... When I was younger I'd go with him a lot whenever he had something to do, just so we could talk in the car. It ended up being my favorite place.
... it's not like it was his fault. Being busy. I always knew that and I never wanted to be an asshole about it, but when I got older I kept pulling away anyway. Like a-- fuck, I dunno.
[He leans forward a little, elbows pressed against his knees as if tugged in by an invisible wire, attentions hooked on what can only be read as Noctis’ melancholy. The line of his brow creases slightly, and his reply isn’t immediate.
His own experience with Carl was not “normal”, as applied to the usual relationship between father and son: an android gifted to an elderly man, and a connection that would grow from there. Thus he doesn’t want to sound presumptuous, to know exactly what the dynamic between Noctis’ and his own father was like, much less be able to know what it’s like to be royalty on top of everything.]
I don’t think that’s unusual. [He offers, unsure how helpful it is, but wanting to complete his thought regardless—] Busy or not, he was still your father. Of course you’d still want to spend time with him, even if you understood why that time was limited.
[Noctis is marred by the fallacies of youth (maybe Markus is, too), but he knows the young man to be perceptive, intelligent, and good-natured. Not wanting to encroach upon responsibilities of a king, how else could he act?]
Mm... Yeah, I guess. I did a lot of dumb stuff back then for attention anyway, though. [ Rebelled, sneaked out whenever he could, drew on old paintings, acted out towards Gladio and some of his other attendants... Occasionally his father would scold him, too often he'd be too busy and would simply ignore him instead. ]
Honestly? I don't really regret any of that. Later...
I should've been around more. I asked him if I could move out on my own and he said yes, but I still could've stopped by more. [ He glances up, then, clearly hitting a wall with his own awkwardness with the subject. ]
Do you... you know. Wanna' talk about Carl some more?
[Regrets are the most painful consequences of memory. Markus knows how cleanly they cut, and how easy it is to apply them to the past, unearthing all the what ifs. What if I had been better, what if I had made different decisions. And in Noctis’ case, what if he had spent more time with his father — would the loss be more bearable?
And that, he knows, is the inherent issue. It wouldn’t be.
Yet the android almost feels like a hypocrite when he says—] You can’t do that to yourself, Noctis. You can’t punish yourself for not having the foresight to expect tragedy that no one should ever have to consider.
[Letting that settle, Markus won’t push the subject further unless Noctis decides to pick up this thread of the conversation himself. Instead, the young man mentions Carl, and Markus only nods.]
... yeah. I can. [ And isn't that just the salt in the wound? It's kept him awake more than one night here even if he doesn't want to fully rest his finger on the reasoning behind it. Sure, he shouldn't blame himself for being unable to predict the attack; that much even he can admit to readily now that he's had the time to process it. But... ]
I knew he was dying, before that. As my old man... it was hard. [ With the unsaid words hanging obviously between them. As a king it was hard in a different way -- Regis's death meant Noctis's ascension, in addition to the pain of losing his last known family member. ]
What made you the happiest with him? Thinking about that stuff's what makes it easier for me, even if it takes a while for it to set in.
[And hearing that, it’s made even more apparent how heavy that guilt must be; yet it makes sense, in its own way. An ailing loved one is a difficult subject , and Noctis simply not wanting to face it as reality is perhaps a more common coping mechanism than he might believe.
Yet it’s a subject they can loop back around to. Noctis wants to hear about Carl, and Markus has to steady his own thoughts as he lets a moment hang between them, deciding on a suitable answer.
It’s hard. He can think of more than one moment, made clearer by the poignancy of hindsight.]
Happiest… I think, were the quiet moments. He was already weak, and some days were better than others — but the good ones, where he could spend all day in his studio and I could just watch his thought process unfold with each creative decision he made… I think those were my favorite.
[…]
You know, it hasn’t even been that long. Since things changed for me, I mean. But it’s funny how it feels like it was a lifetime ago. Like I was a different person, then.
[ Noctis is entirely silent as Markus speaks, brow knitting at the word "weak" but then he supplies the gentler follow-up. There's emotion in his voice, wholly human, subtle and unaffected but that's what sticks out to Noctis and that's what makes him want to smile, even if it tightens his chest.
His hand braces against the back of that couch as he finally slides forward onto one of the cushions as if he plans to reach out to him, moving closer--
--but he halts, out of his element and wondering if he's pushing too far. ]
... you sound really proud of him. We've both got a lot to live up to... so maybe that's why it feels like a long time ago. Because you're already starting to change to do that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Like he distrusted Markus for nothing. ]
You got pretty close to it before, so...
My full name's Noctis Lucis Caelum. Crown prince... or now, only living heir to the throne. Calling myself a king still doesn't feel right.
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It’s confirmation, though, of what he had suspected. Markus stops pretending otherwise.]
After all you’ve told me… I think I already knew.
[Even so, only now does he look at the other as if cast under a new light. What the true weight of responsibility means to Noctis, back when they had spoken about pushing forward, about the advice his father had given him.]
And you’ve always had the look of someone shouldering more than what just a guard would. [Transient proof at best, but the kind that Markus is good at pinning down in others — reading what lies behind the immediately apparent.]
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I always heard the opposite. That I didn't have the right bearing or I "spoke too freely"... there's a lot of that when you grow up a prince. It gets old really quick. [ Or, more recently, he's heard it from Cor, Gladio, Cid... ]
... sorry. That I didn't say something sooner, I mean. Everything else I said was real, so...
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[A statement that comes swiftly. He'll have no guilt on Noctis' part for keeping it to himself, not if he can help ease it even by the smallest fraction. And Markus takes a moment to consider the criticisms brought against him, regarding the "bearing" of royalty.]
You don't, really, have much of a regal bearing. [Maybe not a helpful reinforcement against something that the other found "old", but he has a point he's making-] But that wasn't what made me think you were more than just a guard. The way you spoke in the hospital... about pushing forward, about responsibility.
[He can't catch Noctis' eyes like this, but the words might as well have the same effect, so purposefully spoken.]
You looked like a leader then.
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I still need to apologize. Sure, I had a good reason... but that doesn't take away the fact that you were honest with me and I wasn't honest back. That was pretty obviously wrong.
Look... You're a leader too, and you didn't have someone to show you how to get ready for something specifically like that like I did. So... if I think of more advice from him, I'll share it with you. Okay?
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Then I accept your apology. And I forgive you, in case you're still feeling guilty about it.
[Something somber settles in him at the offer, though. Feels like melancholy, or the ghost of it, entangled with an imperceptible gratitude.]
I'd like that. Following the advice and example of someone who- [His lips twist into something wry.] -was wiser than the both of us combined, I imagine.
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[ Wow, Noctis, stop talking. ]
He was always giving me lectures when I was a kid that I didn't get but now they make more sense.
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That’s the nature of advice, isn’t it? It seems superfluous until it isn’t.
[Markus pauses for a second, unsure of Noctis’ willingness to linger on this subject, beyond his initial admission. But he decides to ask.]
Will you tell me more about him? Your father.
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[ His hesitation is visible though it isn't pained like it was before -- where does he start? What does he say about him, that would do him justice? ]
You really wanna' hear about that? I can, just... Are you seriously comfortable sitting there like that? You can sit on the bed too or we can go in the living room or something, if you wanna' have a whole conversation about it.
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...We don't have to. It's a conversation that can be saved for another time.
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Pretty sure it's not gonna' get easier to say.
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Then let’s sit in the living room for a while. I know you’re still recovering, but being alone with your thoughts for too long will just leave you…
[A pause for the right word that isn’t just “depressed”.]
…melancholic.
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This is where he'd groan and flop back down on the bed if he were dealing with one of the members of his retinue, always one to mope and dwell in privacy. But Markus? It feels worse to deny him when he's doing something that is admittedly good for him, so Noctis reluctantly forces himself to stand. ]
... I'm not melancholic. I'm fine normally, I just haven't brought that part up a lot. [ Since it happened, since his father was murdered. Maybe that's the problem. ]
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So just a-] I understand. [-as he guides them out of the room, down the short hallway, and into the living area. Markus doesn’t need to tell him that he can sit wherever he likes, and the android settles at one end of the couch.]
It isn’t exactly a topic that comes up in everyday conversation. But it’s good to not leave these kind of thoughts lingering for too long.
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It's not the back of a car but he'll treat it like one. ]
"Lingering"... [ It's a bit of a scoff; that's hard to hold back completely. ] That makes it sound like talking about it makes that stuff go away.
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[Knowing the pain of loss, especially of loss sudden and unexpected, Markus doesn’t expect it to ever fade. Only for its edges, someday, to be dulled with the slow crawl of time.
He would hope so, at least, for his own sake, too.
The ghost of a scoff is barely given a second thought.]
But it can help, sharing memories with someone else.
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... things could get pretty rough with us sometimes, but even when I was mad I knew he was trying to do the best for us. It's really annoying trying to argue with somebody like that. I guess... it's hard, being a subject and a son at the same time. Couldn't have been easier being a king and a dad.
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[He can’t hope to have a frame of reference, of course, though he knows the sense of duty can be so strong that it overrides much else. A king’s obligation to his people, versus a father’s obligation to his son. Markus wonders at the balancing act both sides of a person might require.
And thus prompting the question:] Were you often able to draw a line between the two? To enjoy time together as just… father and son?
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[ The question makes his lips quirk like he wants to smile and yet... he doesn't. About so much else his feelings are too fucking complicated, always a repressed swirl that he hides behind a falsely aloof demeanor so he can keep his head above water but this? Just makes him feel unavoidably sad. ]
You know... When I was younger I'd go with him a lot whenever he had something to do, just so we could talk in the car. It ended up being my favorite place.
... it's not like it was his fault. Being busy. I always knew that and I never wanted to be an asshole about it, but when I got older I kept pulling away anyway. Like a-- fuck, I dunno.
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His own experience with Carl was not “normal”, as applied to the usual relationship between father and son: an android gifted to an elderly man, and a connection that would grow from there. Thus he doesn’t want to sound presumptuous, to know exactly what the dynamic between Noctis’ and his own father was like, much less be able to know what it’s like to be royalty on top of everything.]
I don’t think that’s unusual. [He offers, unsure how helpful it is, but wanting to complete his thought regardless—] Busy or not, he was still your father. Of course you’d still want to spend time with him, even if you understood why that time was limited.
[Noctis is marred by the fallacies of youth (maybe Markus is, too), but he knows the young man to be perceptive, intelligent, and good-natured. Not wanting to encroach upon responsibilities of a king, how else could he act?]
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Honestly? I don't really regret any of that. Later...
I should've been around more. I asked him if I could move out on my own and he said yes, but I still could've stopped by more. [ He glances up, then, clearly hitting a wall with his own awkwardness with the subject. ]
Do you... you know. Wanna' talk about Carl some more?
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And that, he knows, is the inherent issue. It wouldn’t be.
Yet the android almost feels like a hypocrite when he says—] You can’t do that to yourself, Noctis. You can’t punish yourself for not having the foresight to expect tragedy that no one should ever have to consider.
[Letting that settle, Markus won’t push the subject further unless Noctis decides to pick up this thread of the conversation himself. Instead, the young man mentions Carl, and Markus only nods.]
What kind of questions did you want to ask?
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I knew he was dying, before that. As my old man... it was hard. [ With the unsaid words hanging obviously between them. As a king it was hard in a different way -- Regis's death meant Noctis's ascension, in addition to the pain of losing his last known family member. ]
What made you the happiest with him? Thinking about that stuff's what makes it easier for me, even if it takes a while for it to set in.
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Yet it’s a subject they can loop back around to. Noctis wants to hear about Carl, and Markus has to steady his own thoughts as he lets a moment hang between them, deciding on a suitable answer.
It’s hard. He can think of more than one moment, made clearer by the poignancy of hindsight.]
Happiest… I think, were the quiet moments. He was already weak, and some days were better than others — but the good ones, where he could spend all day in his studio and I could just watch his thought process unfold with each creative decision he made… I think those were my favorite.
[…]
You know, it hasn’t even been that long. Since things changed for me, I mean. But it’s funny how it feels like it was a lifetime ago. Like I was a different person, then.
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His hand braces against the back of that couch as he finally slides forward onto one of the cushions as if he plans to reach out to him, moving closer--
--but he halts, out of his element and wondering if he's pushing too far. ]
... you sound really proud of him. We've both got a lot to live up to... so maybe that's why it feels like a long time ago. Because you're already starting to change to do that.
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