( It's too much. Kaladin feels stung, and while he's still raw from their earlier conversation. The contents of what Noctis is trying to communicate no longer matter, the main thread of their argument snapping.
There's no logic in what he says now, only pure emotion, and it has a costly recoil. )
"This would happen"? What's "this"? ( Kaladin breathes heavily on the other line, standing in an empty room. No roommates stir because he's purposely isolated himself in unoccupied quarters, frightened of sharing with strangers. ) Your friend struggling with a concept that destroyed his entire life? Is that what you're referring to?
( His pacing begins, a habit learned from watching his father. )
Did you think the longer you waited, the better I would feel?
[ Stress is rising like a wave that laps at him repeatedly, only waiting for the breaking point to come and break the tension. All it's doing instead is growing. ]
You tell me!
Maybe I just thought the longer I waited the better chance you'd get to actually meet me. Not just a light-eyed prince you'd want nothing to do with but Noctis. Your friend?
I feel worse! ( He raises his voice until it goes hoarse, still strained from calling out to Noctis over the Imugi's storm. ) I feel worse because you are my friend, Noctis. Because you're my—Because I—
( His heart pounds. His skin feels cold. His head spins.
Ducking the low light fixture, Kaladin seeks the wall and places his hand there. It feels flimsy, which would make it the sliding exit to the hallway, constructed of wood and rice paper. People can hear him, undoubtedly. Knowing this, his voice becomes a low, hushed. )
I took everything well to this point, didn't I? You're a lighteyes and I accepted that. You're wealthy and I accepted that. I did well... I thought I did well!
I... I don't understand why. Why did you think I'd want nothing to do with you?
[ Why doesn't Kaladin get it? Why can't he just... somehow understand so that Noctis doesn't have to try to unknot this feeling in his chest and put it into words? He's spent so long weaving those threads at the insistence of others and their well-meaning expectations that untangling them now is physically painful, but...
But Kaladin is able to express himself so well. He can say what he's thinking, what he's feeling, and has encouraged Noctis to feel safe doing the same. Why can't he take on that same role when the stakes are higher? Realizing why all at once doesn't make it any simpler.
He's scared. ]
Yeah, you did well! When did I even– this isn't about that! I didn't say any of that.
[ "I don't want this role." So much of what's so key to any explanation he could give lies in a single sentence that would shame every ancestor whose statues looked down on him on journeys to his school or apartment. Who've offered him their weapons in his current trials, weapons he can feel stirring within him even now. He hesitates to admit it to himself – how can he say it to Kaladin? Someone he's been able to get so close to as "him". Someone he cares about, jokes with, wants to impress, wants to be around. Someone he didn't want to introduce to Prince Noctis. ]
It's not you. You couldn't do anything better or different, don't you get it? I'm not making up how people react to it, I've seen it!
( Kaladin doesn't want to hurt Noctis, but he can hear it in his voice when he speaks. He raises his, too, in as heightened a state as Kaladin. How do they get out of it? How do they slow down and stop when they've already begun?
It's ridiculous he still possesses resentment toward lighteyes. One of his best friends is a lighteyed prince. The other is a lighteyed princess. He commands ranks half-filled by lighteyed Windrunners. He acknowledges the lighteyed queen of Alethkar, his homeland, and he follows the lighteyed king of Urithiru, the ancestral tower of the Knights Radiant—his kind who were all lighteyed when bonded with a spren.
He knows why the distrust persists, but it feels like his relationships with them are built on a foundation of sand. If he thinks they've perpetrated some unfair act against him, he becomes irate... over the smallest things. It's trauma. A mental illness. Stress that overcomes him and makes him fearful.
That feels more acute now with Noctis, and after brutishly dissecting why, his scalpel the hundreds of thoughts cutting new paths of understanding in his mind, he's become defensive. Recognizing that gives him perspective enough to slow down, but the most important step—the next step—is to stop.
Kaladin, fearful, doesn't know how to. )
Apparently, I could've. ( He adds bitterly, ignoring the stinging in the corners of his eyes. Tears won't come, although it wouldn't be the first time since sinking into this pit of a temporary base that he's felt like crying. He's experienced some of his highest highs and lowest lows on Earth. They're dealing with the Imugi and the fate of her children together and being burdened with clean-up and caring for the injured and dying... They flew and fought jointly and witnessed each other's skills, and they had a quiet chat at the bathhouse and relaxed together...
Still, even if the timing for this reveal is poor, it's hard to imagine arguing about it on any other day. It had to be now, and it had to be like this. )
You've seen people react to you being Chosen King of Prophecy and pals with your religion's pantheon, Noctis. As someone only hearing about this now, I think I can speak for them when I say that's quite the storming revelation. ( It's said in a low, unsteady voice. ) This... This was cowardly, and I didn't expect that of the friend I've gotten to know... You didn't even read your profile to me yourself. You chose a passive, supervisory role and put the responsibility on me—as a lighteyes might have.
[ Words peel back more and more layers and leave him more vulnerable to Kaladin's judgements, and his own childish desperation for an understanding reception is left unrealized. His friend is angry and he feels betrayed by Noctis's silence. Objectively, he can understand why. Kaladin's made no secret of that. But he doesn't have the emotional intelligence needed to see outside himself and feel that it's anything other than unfair.
His aggression flags at the first words – "apparently, I could've" – to make room for hurt, but that's defensively swept away so he can build back up his shield. Anger. ]
Sorry to disappoint you; you're gonna' have to get in line. That's all I seem to do with people lately. [ Night air hits his face as he finally finds an exit out onto the engawa wrapping around the dormitory's exterior, the pitter-patter of softly starting rain on the eaves above seeming to mimic his mood and only add to the bitterness in his tone. ]
No, I haven't seen people react to that. Me being a prince on its own did plenty of the work, asshole.
What the hell do you want from me, hah? You want me to say it all in my own words, like it actually matters? When this is as much a revelation to me as it is to you? Working with the astrals, being "Chosen"... How am I supposed to tell you what the hell it means when I don't know?
[ Luna's words have only grown fuzzier with the passage of time and his father had stayed silent. Why? Why is he being forced to remember childhood conversations now, in this place, with every other burden of his country already placed on his head? ]
You think you're angry?! [ His voice is nearly a shout as he fights and fails to lash that temper back into place, fingers curling into fists.
Disconnecting the call is almost a reflex action, feeling like he has no other option. Whether it's to protect Kaladin from wrath he doesn't deserve or to escalate or relieve mounting tension even he doesn't know, but it's all that allows a shaky exhale in the second after. ]
( Ignorance isn't better. Oh, it's easy for him to long for it now that they've been burned, but going back to the way things were would prolong an inevitable outcome. They would have to face this together later, and the result would be the same. Kaladin only wishes he received Noctis' truths with more grace—and before his friend became overwhelmed enough to cut him off.
User xXdarkwariorXx has disconnected the call.
He feels very lonely in the minutes that follow. He tries to determine what he should do. He's hurt, yes. He's angry, yes. But he's equipped now with the understanding that Noctis spent months in a foreign world in a state of confusion over a destiny he knew nothing about. Of course, Noctis couldn't tell him when he was too busy trying to piece together what any of his profile meant for him. After so recently learning of his father's death. The former king's death.
And therefore, his sudden and heartbreaking inheritance of the throne.
That he spent that whole argument worrying about himself appalls Kaladin. Shallan once called him arrogant for inferring whatever he wanted about the lives of others. She was right. He always assumed lighteyes were inherently luckier because of their elevated status, turning away all evidence to the contrary. He thought he learned to do otherwise, then did it again with Noctis. Human beings all intimately know suffering. Noctis lacked a mother, survived an assault as a child, had an absentee father, was ostracized as royalty, lost his remaining parent and leader in a night, and is now burdened with a preordained fate—a complete surprise to him. What right does Kaladin have to monopolize pain?
Yet that bitterness remains. It doesn't conveniently go away, though he begs it to after determining what he should do becomes obvious: Find Noctis and apologize. He still feels slighted. He still feels he was lied to. He still feels like if he'd been told, he might've been able to help in some small way. For the first time, Kaladin is forced to accept that they can both be right. Their truths can be correct—as they're important to them—and wrong—as they communicated them to each other poorly.
He blinks away the interface of his implant and marches toward his room's exit. )
Noctis? ( he calls down corridors of sleeping people. Kaladin ignores their distant efforts to silence him with curses and threats. His search isn't frantic but thorough—and impolite. Anywhere he thinks Noctis would be is checked, starting with the room he shares with their comrades.
He then seeks where they last sparred, walking out into the area behind the dormitories. They designated it a decent training ground, coming by daily to blow off steam. If Noctis isn't frustrated enough to carve a few sword kata out of the situation, he'll be somewhere else outside, trying to see the sky. The night would be more pleasant if it weren't overcast; though they're never able to see the stars Noctis enjoys anyway.
Kaladin still curses the weather as he rounds the engawa.
There, a short distance from where his quarters are indoors, Noctis stands in the rain. Because of course, he does. Because Kaladin only ever finds what he's looking for after he stops looking for it. )
[ The call ends with his adrenaline high and his body desperate for an outlet it doesn't have. Would it help him to throw a punch against a wall that might split his knuckles, leaving him injured in his attempt to prove some sick point to Kaladin? Would self-inflicting pain make a drastically soured conversation somehow sit easier in his belly? Even now it's not thinking of Kaladin that leaves him furious and with his chest aching, but thinking of how their lives have forced them to speak to each other. Friends, treating each other like they should've somehow been able to ignore past traumas and what external circumstances have forced upon them both.
Because as heated as the argument had gotten and as many old wounds had been gouged into and exposed, he still has to believe the title applies. Kaladin is his friend, easily his closest here if not his only.
And he deserved to know the truth sooner than he did.
Realizing he needs to apologize isn't the difficult part. That's something he accepted at the beginning of their conversation. But trying to assemble the words in his head while emotions run high is impossible; one slots into place and another is lost, memories of Eos blurring with the tableau of Kyoto's distant lights and leaving him feeling... paralyzed. ]
[ How much time passes he isn't sure, but when a voice cuts through the silence he tenses like a live wire.
Noctis turns, tanned skin paled by the chill and rain while dark hair sits limp, plastered wetly to his neck and face. The expression there is unreadable for a moment before his brow furrows, apprehensive but showing no signs of retreat or anger. Good, for now. ]
Kaladin.
... don't fight with me. [ The word choice makes it sound like a command. But the tiredness in that tone, combined with suddenly slouching shoulders, shows it as what it actually is: a plea. ]
( Walking closer, Kaladin raises a hand. It's intended to be a peaceful gesture, surrendering to their moods and to the conclusion he's come to. )
That's not why I'm here.
( His friend looks bowed, smaller than usual. He hates how guilty it makes him feel, and for another reason: Noctis should stand tall and proud. He should never have to feel the way he does now. )
[ The word, for a moment, almost doesn't register.
When it does it's like he moves on autopilot, knees bending as he lowers himself to sit on the edge of the lacquered wood beams making up the flooring of that porch, legs dangling over the side to toe at gravel. His hand comes to rest at his side, gesturing to the place next to him as if to offer Kaladin a seat. ]
( For a split second, he believes Noctis' legs have given out. He mechanically lowers himself without saying anything that might make Kaladin anticipate an action. A sudden, aborted step is taken, but he uses its momentum to carry him to his friend's side.
He eases down, and his boots plant firmly in loose stones. )
And I was selfish. I ignored your pain and prioritized mine. It's okay, Noctis.
It's okay, ( he says again, but softly. It'd sounded too matter-of-fact the first time. Practical. Unreachable. The way his father would say it. )
[ It's easy to ignore it as a neutral platitude the first time Kaladin says it, but not the second. He chances a look at a young man who appears resolute but sincere, sure he has as many regrets as Noctis himself does. By contrast his own expression matches exactly how he feels: reflective, but a little lost. ]
... thanks.
If you've got questions I'll answer them, obviously. Otherwise I can tell you what I know. In my words.
( Strength before weakness. Noctis looks at him. Despite it all, he meets Kaladin's eyes.
Kaladin smiles back. )
It's worth a great deal to me.
( Silence is allowed to briefly settle between them. Arm to arm, they sit looking out together over the dormitory's sparse garden. Kaladin leans down to select a small rock that catches his eye, letting the rain expose its colour and pattern. )
I have questions, but I want to say something first if that's alright.
It doesn't appear forced, not like any attempts of his own to match it would. It's... a warmth and comfort he wants to thank him for after such an overwhelming fear that had gripped him in that fight, but his throat tightens around any attempt to tell him. ]
You're my friend, Noctis, but you're also a member of Bridge Four.
( His thumb strokes dirt off the rock's surface, helping to clean it. Striations become clearer, beige and brown undulations in a parallel. The lines flow to the back of the rock where they meet and form around an inclusion of quartz.
It's pretty. So, he takes Noctis' cold hand from its resting place on the engawa and presses it into his palm. )
Bridge Four represents freedom. The freedom to live well while doing what you believe is right. To know with certainty that wherever you are, however difficult things become, you're not alone.
( Kaladin's fingers fold Noctis' closed, then cup the back of his hand. The rock is warm despite the rain. )
No royal duty can supersede that. And it'll always be yours.
[ No glove shields either hand since he'd been dressed down for eventual sleep when the conversation began, feet equally bare and wearing simple grey cloth pants and a black shirt that do nothing against the cold. It doesn't matter. He hardly feels it when Kaladin touches him, a brush of fingers at first that he almost speaks up against before he forces himself to relax.
What a simple thing. Yet his desire to examine that rock and its unique designs is surpassed only by his unwillingness to unfurl fingers and jeopardize Kaladin's hold on him.
He wants it. Everything Kaladin describes, that unity even in independence, that sense of choice even with a common purpose. Deep down, he knows it's what he's always wanted but never been able to put into words. ]
Kaladin, I'm... [ Words trail off as he looks down at their hands, briefly in awe of how quickly they'd gone from shouts and insults to this. It brings with it an overwhelming feeling of security. ]
I'll always do what I think is right. I'll fight the bastards who attacked my country, and I'll protect my people. [ Here he looks up again, finally. ] But freedom? My life's not mine. I've known that since I was born.
( His hands remain beneath Noctis' closed around the rock. Unthinkingly, he's done what Tien once did for him. Such a simple gesture meant so much to him, now used by him. He looks down, but not where they touch.
Blue eyes stare up at him, wide and vulnerable. Kaladin's eyelids grow heavy in their singular focus. )
I don't know what it means to rule, but I understand how hard it is to lead. Though, I'm no expert on balancing duty with being my own man. But in the narrow spaces between everyone's expectations, I must believe you have time to make your life yours.
Maybe... you can be a new ruler. One no one's ever known. ( He finally removes his hands. Not before a final squeeze, thumb trailing from a paler knuckle as it'd done with their rock. ) If I've learned anything in the past couple of years, it's that we're all making it up as we go along. Even kings. Even gods.
[ Rain picks up and beats steadily against his knees but he hardly seems to notice as his grip on that rock tightens, feeling that he's weak for needing so many assurances from Kaladin but equally that he's allowed to have them. It's jarring. ]
Ah... copying someone else won't work for me, that's for sure. I figured that out a long time ago too. [ He will never be Regis, stalwart and unflinching. He'll never be like Ignis, or Gladio. He'll never be like Kaladin either, able to see in all of them the traits he'd like to have while blind to so many of his own. ]
If I'm honest? [ He leans forward now, welcoming rain drops against his face again as he rests elbows against his thighs to abandon the shelter of the eaves. ]
I felt that for the first time when I got here. That I could do anything I wanted and that nobody was expecting anything else. That'd earn me a lecture if I said it back home... [ And there's finally a hint of a wry smile when he pictures it, not desperate for the restrictions to return but certainly missing those who imposed them. ]
But you just made that feeling for yourself back on Roshar without waiting for someone to give it to you. That's not bad, Kaladin.
( Their thoughts parallel, with one difference: While Noctis admires the traits of his family and friends, his are admired by Kaladin. If he were to copy someone else, it would dilute the things that make Noctis Noctis. The things that will make him a tremendous king.
Kaladin relaxes against one of the columns framing their section of the engawa, watching Noctis lean forward into the rain. The smile he wears is different than those he's seen on him previously. )
"Narrow spaces," ( he quotes himself, little more than a murmur. It's not intended to be heard and commented on; it's simply something he finds amusing. Time has been forced upon them here. He used to hate it, but Noctis has a point. They can do anything they want. ) If you're looking for the same lecture from me, you won't get it. You're not the kind of man who can easily forget who needs him. Neither am I.
I wasn't always like this, though. And I still—
( Lifting a leg up with them, Kaladin rests his arm on his knee. )
The thing is... I had to make that feeling. Even then, if I didn't have guidance, Noctis, I'd be... ( At the bottom of a chasm. Washed out to sea in the next Highstorm. ) I'd be elsewhere.
Bridge Four saved me. Adolin. Shallan. Syl. I'm hopeless alone.
[ It's refreshing to hear that confidence from someone else. He's heard he's strong, that he's capable, but far less often is he given credit for remembering what it is he needs to do and who he needs to do it for. ]
Yeah? I figured that out by the second time you messaged me, you know. [ A gentle tease but a true one, this time not said to distract from the weight of Kaladin's admissions but to complement them. They've relied on each other a lot here in the absence of friends back home, haven't they?
That rock remains in his hand, held tightly still. ]
... the last thing my old man said to me was that I needed to walk tall. Hold my head up. And before that he told my friends to look out for me. Even called me "wayward" without them... and he was right. After he got killed I wanted to rush back into the city, and they kept me steady. [ Them, and Cor. His father's trusted comrade. ] Who knows. That might've saved my life.
[ For him, it's wordy. Being so honest about what's happened and so recently takes a toll, but he won't make the same mistake again of keeping Kaladin in the dark. ]
... it'd be cool to meet them. Your friends.
In the meantime I guess I'm your guidance and you're mine.
( The humour doesn't land, but it's distantly appreciated by Kaladin whose mental illness has only ever been treated by Adolin with levity. He and Noctis have similarities he's noticed before yet never admired till now. They're familiar, make light of dark subject matter, and are, therefore, comforting.
Balms for a raw soul. )
I wasn't subtle, it seems...
( Noctis talks about his father, and Kaladin listens without comment. Sometimes, to be next to someone is enough. Words aren't needed to communicate a point. They're here for each other when it counts, and that's precious to Kaladin, who considers himself now bound to Noctis.
Losing a family member feels impossible. You live as though you have all the time in the world to say what you need to. You're convinced that nothing so devastating as a father's or a brother's death could ever happen to you—how could it? You love them, and the cosmere can't simply take that away.
Then it does.
His eyes soften on Noctis, though his expression remains drawn. ) "Walk tall"... He sounds like he was a man who was proud of his people—his son most of all. Fathers speak in opposites, in my experience. Chastisements are encouragements. And in wanting what's best for us...
( They can occasionally miss the mark. )
... I think love is expressed through worry. Your family and friends, and mine, too... they're good. Truly good.
( He misses them. All of them. But a little less when he's with Noctis. )
What do you think our new duties entail? More nights like this? That... wouldn't be so bad, I think.
[ That's what had stuck out early, after all. From his first time meeting Kaladin during his surly assessment of New Year's activities to the first time he reached out to complain – rightfully – about their fellow Outsiders. He considers himself in rare company as someone Kaladin's been able to speak with freely. A member of Bridge Four. Someone who worries about him as much as he worries back.
So if that's what love is... ]
Ah, I can deal with worry and critiques, so your friends can do their worst. Wait until you meet mine. [ Who would give him the toughest time? It'd have to be Ignis, right? Why can he see him getting along with Gladio a little too well at first... ]
Anyway... maybe a few nights with more sparring and less talking. Feels like I've been running my mouth too much lately.
But I guess... before I stop, I can handle those questions now.
The Almighty knows that's true, ( Kaladin laughs quietly, pressing his head back against the wooden column. His eyes find a black sky, uttering a quiet "yeah" to Noctis' intent to speak less next time. To spar, exhausting himself physically instead of mentally.
Because this is a marathon run of the mind they're close to completing, and Kaladin wants to lie down and hold something. )
Bridge Four... would love you. Adolin and Shallan, too. My mother, my little brother... All of them, Noctis. ( Thinking how much sobers him, dimly aware of a new, formless ache in his chest. It takes shape the longer they speak quietly on the engawa, where Noctis' outline glows from an outdoor light in the garden. )
Your data file... It mentioned you were to save Eos. What does it need saving from? The military you mentioned before?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
There's no logic in what he says now, only pure emotion, and it has a costly recoil. )
"This would happen"? What's "this"? ( Kaladin breathes heavily on the other line, standing in an empty room. No roommates stir because he's purposely isolated himself in unoccupied quarters, frightened of sharing with strangers. ) Your friend struggling with a concept that destroyed his entire life? Is that what you're referring to?
( His pacing begins, a habit learned from watching his father. )
Did you think the longer you waited, the better I would feel?
no subject
You tell me!
Maybe I just thought the longer I waited the better chance you'd get to actually meet me. Not just a light-eyed prince you'd want nothing to do with but Noctis. Your friend?
I didn't tell anyone, Kaladin.
no subject
( His heart pounds. His skin feels cold. His head spins.
Ducking the low light fixture, Kaladin seeks the wall and places his hand there. It feels flimsy, which would make it the sliding exit to the hallway, constructed of wood and rice paper. People can hear him, undoubtedly. Knowing this, his voice becomes a low, hushed. )
I took everything well to this point, didn't I? You're a lighteyes and I accepted that. You're wealthy and I accepted that. I did well... I thought I did well!
I... I don't understand why. Why did you think I'd want nothing to do with you?
no subject
But Kaladin is able to express himself so well. He can say what he's thinking, what he's feeling, and has encouraged Noctis to feel safe doing the same. Why can't he take on that same role when the stakes are higher? Realizing why all at once doesn't make it any simpler.
He's scared. ]
Yeah, you did well! When did I even– this isn't about that! I didn't say any of that.
[ "I don't want this role." So much of what's so key to any explanation he could give lies in a single sentence that would shame every ancestor whose statues looked down on him on journeys to his school or apartment. Who've offered him their weapons in his current trials, weapons he can feel stirring within him even now. He hesitates to admit it to himself – how can he say it to Kaladin? Someone he's been able to get so close to as "him". Someone he cares about, jokes with, wants to impress, wants to be around. Someone he didn't want to introduce to Prince Noctis. ]
It's not you. You couldn't do anything better or different, don't you get it? I'm not making up how people react to it, I've seen it!
no subject
It's ridiculous he still possesses resentment toward lighteyes. One of his best friends is a lighteyed prince. The other is a lighteyed princess. He commands ranks half-filled by lighteyed Windrunners. He acknowledges the lighteyed queen of Alethkar, his homeland, and he follows the lighteyed king of Urithiru, the ancestral tower of the Knights Radiant—his kind who were all lighteyed when bonded with a spren.
He knows why the distrust persists, but it feels like his relationships with them are built on a foundation of sand. If he thinks they've perpetrated some unfair act against him, he becomes irate... over the smallest things. It's trauma. A mental illness. Stress that overcomes him and makes him fearful.
That feels more acute now with Noctis, and after brutishly dissecting why, his scalpel the hundreds of thoughts cutting new paths of understanding in his mind, he's become defensive. Recognizing that gives him perspective enough to slow down, but the most important step—the next step—is to stop.
Kaladin, fearful, doesn't know how to. )
Apparently, I could've. ( He adds bitterly, ignoring the stinging in the corners of his eyes. Tears won't come, although it wouldn't be the first time since sinking into this pit of a temporary base that he's felt like crying. He's experienced some of his highest highs and lowest lows on Earth. They're dealing with the Imugi and the fate of her children together and being burdened with clean-up and caring for the injured and dying... They flew and fought jointly and witnessed each other's skills, and they had a quiet chat at the bathhouse and relaxed together...
Still, even if the timing for this reveal is poor, it's hard to imagine arguing about it on any other day. It had to be now, and it had to be like this. )
You've seen people react to you being Chosen King of Prophecy and pals with your religion's pantheon, Noctis. As someone only hearing about this now, I think I can speak for them when I say that's quite the storming revelation. ( It's said in a low, unsteady voice. ) This... This was cowardly, and I didn't expect that of the friend I've gotten to know... You didn't even read your profile to me yourself. You chose a passive, supervisory role and put the responsibility on me—as a lighteyes might have.
That's why... That's why I'm angry.
no subject
His aggression flags at the first words – "apparently, I could've" – to make room for hurt, but that's defensively swept away so he can build back up his shield. Anger. ]
Sorry to disappoint you; you're gonna' have to get in line. That's all I seem to do with people lately. [ Night air hits his face as he finally finds an exit out onto the engawa wrapping around the dormitory's exterior, the pitter-patter of softly starting rain on the eaves above seeming to mimic his mood and only add to the bitterness in his tone. ]
No, I haven't seen people react to that. Me being a prince on its own did plenty of the work, asshole.
What the hell do you want from me, hah? You want me to say it all in my own words, like it actually matters? When this is as much a revelation to me as it is to you? Working with the astrals, being "Chosen"... How am I supposed to tell you what the hell it means when I don't know?
[ Luna's words have only grown fuzzier with the passage of time and his father had stayed silent. Why? Why is he being forced to remember childhood conversations now, in this place, with every other burden of his country already placed on his head? ]
You think you're angry?! [ His voice is nearly a shout as he fights and fails to lash that temper back into place, fingers curling into fists.
Disconnecting the call is almost a reflex action, feeling like he has no other option. Whether it's to protect Kaladin from wrath he doesn't deserve or to escalate or relieve mounting tension even he doesn't know, but it's all that allows a shaky exhale in the second after. ]
1/2
User xXdarkwariorXx has disconnected the call.
He feels very lonely in the minutes that follow. He tries to determine what he should do. He's hurt, yes. He's angry, yes. But he's equipped now with the understanding that Noctis spent months in a foreign world in a state of confusion over a destiny he knew nothing about. Of course, Noctis couldn't tell him when he was too busy trying to piece together what any of his profile meant for him. After so recently learning of his father's death. The former king's death.
And therefore, his sudden and heartbreaking inheritance of the throne.
That he spent that whole argument worrying about himself appalls Kaladin. Shallan once called him arrogant for inferring whatever he wanted about the lives of others. She was right. He always assumed lighteyes were inherently luckier because of their elevated status, turning away all evidence to the contrary. He thought he learned to do otherwise, then did it again with Noctis. Human beings all intimately know suffering. Noctis lacked a mother, survived an assault as a child, had an absentee father, was ostracized as royalty, lost his remaining parent and leader in a night, and is now burdened with a preordained fate—a complete surprise to him. What right does Kaladin have to monopolize pain?
Yet that bitterness remains. It doesn't conveniently go away, though he begs it to after determining what he should do becomes obvious: Find Noctis and apologize. He still feels slighted. He still feels he was lied to. He still feels like if he'd been told, he might've been able to help in some small way. For the first time, Kaladin is forced to accept that they can both be right. Their truths can be correct—as they're important to them—and wrong—as they communicated them to each other poorly.
He blinks away the interface of his implant and marches toward his room's exit. )
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He then seeks where they last sparred, walking out into the area behind the dormitories. They designated it a decent training ground, coming by daily to blow off steam. If Noctis isn't frustrated enough to carve a few sword kata out of the situation, he'll be somewhere else outside, trying to see the sky. The night would be more pleasant if it weren't overcast; though they're never able to see the stars Noctis enjoys anyway.
Kaladin still curses the weather as he rounds the engawa.
There, a short distance from where his quarters are indoors, Noctis stands in the rain. Because of course, he does. Because Kaladin only ever finds what he's looking for after he stops looking for it. )
Noctis. I... thought you might be out here.
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Because as heated as the argument had gotten and as many old wounds had been gouged into and exposed, he still has to believe the title applies. Kaladin is his friend, easily his closest here if not his only.
And he deserved to know the truth sooner than he did.
Realizing he needs to apologize isn't the difficult part. That's something he accepted at the beginning of their conversation. But trying to assemble the words in his head while emotions run high is impossible; one slots into place and another is lost, memories of Eos blurring with the tableau of Kyoto's distant lights and leaving him feeling... paralyzed. ]
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Noctis turns, tanned skin paled by the chill and rain while dark hair sits limp, plastered wetly to his neck and face. The expression there is unreadable for a moment before his brow furrows, apprehensive but showing no signs of retreat or anger. Good, for now. ]
Kaladin.
... don't fight with me. [ The word choice makes it sound like a command. But the tiredness in that tone, combined with suddenly slouching shoulders, shows it as what it actually is: a plea. ]
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That's not why I'm here.
( His friend looks bowed, smaller than usual. He hates how guilty it makes him feel, and for another reason: Noctis should stand tall and proud. He should never have to feel the way he does now. )
The opposite, actually; I wanted to apologize.
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When it does it's like he moves on autopilot, knees bending as he lowers himself to sit on the edge of the lacquered wood beams making up the flooring of that porch, legs dangling over the side to toe at gravel. His hand comes to rest at his side, gesturing to the place next to him as if to offer Kaladin a seat. ]
Guess that makes two of us.
... I should've told you a long time ago.
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He eases down, and his boots plant firmly in loose stones. )
And I was selfish. I ignored your pain and prioritized mine. It's okay, Noctis.
It's okay, ( he says again, but softly. It'd sounded too matter-of-fact the first time. Practical. Unreachable. The way his father would say it. )
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... thanks.
If you've got questions I'll answer them, obviously. Otherwise I can tell you what I know. In my words.
Not that that's worth a hell of a lot.
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Kaladin smiles back. )
It's worth a great deal to me.
( Silence is allowed to briefly settle between them. Arm to arm, they sit looking out together over the dormitory's sparse garden. Kaladin leans down to select a small rock that catches his eye, letting the rain expose its colour and pattern. )
I have questions, but I want to say something first if that's alright.
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It doesn't appear forced, not like any attempts of his own to match it would. It's... a warmth and comfort he wants to thank him for after such an overwhelming fear that had gripped him in that fight, but his throat tightens around any attempt to tell him. ]
Yeah. ... yeah, sure. What's up?
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( His thumb strokes dirt off the rock's surface, helping to clean it. Striations become clearer, beige and brown undulations in a parallel. The lines flow to the back of the rock where they meet and form around an inclusion of quartz.
It's pretty. So, he takes Noctis' cold hand from its resting place on the engawa and presses it into his palm. )
Bridge Four represents freedom. The freedom to live well while doing what you believe is right. To know with certainty that wherever you are, however difficult things become, you're not alone.
( Kaladin's fingers fold Noctis' closed, then cup the back of his hand. The rock is warm despite the rain. )
No royal duty can supersede that. And it'll always be yours.
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What a simple thing. Yet his desire to examine that rock and its unique designs is surpassed only by his unwillingness to unfurl fingers and jeopardize Kaladin's hold on him.
He wants it. Everything Kaladin describes, that unity even in independence, that sense of choice even with a common purpose. Deep down, he knows it's what he's always wanted but never been able to put into words. ]
Kaladin, I'm... [ Words trail off as he looks down at their hands, briefly in awe of how quickly they'd gone from shouts and insults to this. It brings with it an overwhelming feeling of security. ]
I'll always do what I think is right. I'll fight the bastards who attacked my country, and I'll protect my people. [ Here he looks up again, finally. ] But freedom? My life's not mine. I've known that since I was born.
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Blue eyes stare up at him, wide and vulnerable. Kaladin's eyelids grow heavy in their singular focus. )
I don't know what it means to rule, but I understand how hard it is to lead. Though, I'm no expert on balancing duty with being my own man. But in the narrow spaces between everyone's expectations, I must believe you have time to make your life yours.
Maybe... you can be a new ruler. One no one's ever known. ( He finally removes his hands. Not before a final squeeze, thumb trailing from a paler knuckle as it'd done with their rock. ) If I've learned anything in the past couple of years, it's that we're all making it up as we go along. Even kings. Even gods.
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Ah... copying someone else won't work for me, that's for sure. I figured that out a long time ago too. [ He will never be Regis, stalwart and unflinching. He'll never be like Ignis, or Gladio. He'll never be like Kaladin either, able to see in all of them the traits he'd like to have while blind to so many of his own. ]
If I'm honest? [ He leans forward now, welcoming rain drops against his face again as he rests elbows against his thighs to abandon the shelter of the eaves. ]
I felt that for the first time when I got here. That I could do anything I wanted and that nobody was expecting anything else. That'd earn me a lecture if I said it back home... [ And there's finally a hint of a wry smile when he pictures it, not desperate for the restrictions to return but certainly missing those who imposed them. ]
But you just made that feeling for yourself back on Roshar without waiting for someone to give it to you. That's not bad, Kaladin.
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Kaladin relaxes against one of the columns framing their section of the engawa, watching Noctis lean forward into the rain. The smile he wears is different than those he's seen on him previously. )
"Narrow spaces," ( he quotes himself, little more than a murmur. It's not intended to be heard and commented on; it's simply something he finds amusing. Time has been forced upon them here. He used to hate it, but Noctis has a point. They can do anything they want. ) If you're looking for the same lecture from me, you won't get it. You're not the kind of man who can easily forget who needs him. Neither am I.
I wasn't always like this, though. And I still—
( Lifting a leg up with them, Kaladin rests his arm on his knee. )
The thing is... I had to make that feeling. Even then, if I didn't have guidance, Noctis, I'd be... ( At the bottom of a chasm. Washed out to sea in the next Highstorm. ) I'd be elsewhere.
Bridge Four saved me. Adolin. Shallan. Syl. I'm hopeless alone.
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Yeah? I figured that out by the second time you messaged me, you know. [ A gentle tease but a true one, this time not said to distract from the weight of Kaladin's admissions but to complement them. They've relied on each other a lot here in the absence of friends back home, haven't they?
That rock remains in his hand, held tightly still. ]
... the last thing my old man said to me was that I needed to walk tall. Hold my head up. And before that he told my friends to look out for me. Even called me "wayward" without them... and he was right. After he got killed I wanted to rush back into the city, and they kept me steady. [ Them, and Cor. His father's trusted comrade. ] Who knows. That might've saved my life.
[ For him, it's wordy. Being so honest about what's happened and so recently takes a toll, but he won't make the same mistake again of keeping Kaladin in the dark. ]
... it'd be cool to meet them. Your friends.
In the meantime I guess I'm your guidance and you're mine.
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( The humour doesn't land, but it's distantly appreciated by Kaladin whose mental illness has only ever been treated by Adolin with levity. He and Noctis have similarities he's noticed before yet never admired till now. They're familiar, make light of dark subject matter, and are, therefore, comforting.
Balms for a raw soul. )
I wasn't subtle, it seems...
( Noctis talks about his father, and Kaladin listens without comment. Sometimes, to be next to someone is enough. Words aren't needed to communicate a point. They're here for each other when it counts, and that's precious to Kaladin, who considers himself now bound to Noctis.
Losing a family member feels impossible. You live as though you have all the time in the world to say what you need to. You're convinced that nothing so devastating as a father's or a brother's death could ever happen to you—how could it? You love them, and the cosmere can't simply take that away.
Then it does.
His eyes soften on Noctis, though his expression remains drawn. ) "Walk tall"... He sounds like he was a man who was proud of his people—his son most of all. Fathers speak in opposites, in my experience. Chastisements are encouragements. And in wanting what's best for us...
( They can occasionally miss the mark. )
... I think love is expressed through worry. Your family and friends, and mine, too... they're good. Truly good.
( He misses them. All of them. But a little less when he's with Noctis. )
What do you think our new duties entail? More nights like this? That... wouldn't be so bad, I think.
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[ That's what had stuck out early, after all. From his first time meeting Kaladin during his surly assessment of New Year's activities to the first time he reached out to complain – rightfully – about their fellow Outsiders. He considers himself in rare company as someone Kaladin's been able to speak with freely. A member of Bridge Four. Someone who worries about him as much as he worries back.
So if that's what love is... ]
Ah, I can deal with worry and critiques, so your friends can do their worst. Wait until you meet mine. [ Who would give him the toughest time? It'd have to be Ignis, right? Why can he see him getting along with Gladio a little too well at first... ]
Anyway... maybe a few nights with more sparring and less talking. Feels like I've been running my mouth too much lately.
But I guess... before I stop, I can handle those questions now.
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Because this is a marathon run of the mind they're close to completing, and Kaladin wants to lie down and hold something. )
Bridge Four... would love you. Adolin and Shallan, too. My mother, my little brother... All of them, Noctis. ( Thinking how much sobers him, dimly aware of a new, formless ache in his chest. It takes shape the longer they speak quietly on the engawa, where Noctis' outline glows from an outdoor light in the garden. )
Your data file... It mentioned you were to save Eos. What does it need saving from? The military you mentioned before?
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