Who: Noah, Basch, Hanzo, Iomhar, Calum. When: Now Where: Craigcrook Castle, Edinburgh What: Noah trains with Calum, and Calum fights shadows of the past. Iomhar asks an innocent question, and Basch performs a rescue. Rating/Warnings: Discussion of abuses of power, Noah brooding about his guilt Status: Complete
Iomhar’s got a pretty good idea of what happened to Basch, and to Noah, in theory, at least, but theory’s not something that’s ever really sat well with him when the possibility of actual answers existed too. He has a few other ideas in mind for handling what’s going on here with the brothers, and with the things Calum has let slip about Aedan and the fact he’s found common ground with them. It’s enough that he’s curious, and definitely happy enough to pursue the matter at the next scheduled practice he has with Noah.
“There’s different schools for this. And everything I was doing was more - ritualized. We had our own custom weaponry, after all. The forms for practicing purposes stayed the same. Think of it a bit like practicing for sports via dancing? You’re learning balance, even if you’d never take your teammates to a barre on the field,” Noah’s saying while he’s messing with some buckles. “Sort of like how the way I do sword forms is formalized, but the point is to watch how your body handles them, not the precision of the form itself, I suppose.”
He grins a bit at Calum. “I warned you I lecture if I’m not careful.”
“That makes sense, in a way.” Calum is nodding slowly. “Or, dramatics, actually. I spent some time with a coach of players and a small trope before I was old enough to really grasp the intent behind some of the lines in some of the plays.” He snorts violently, thinking of a few of the works. “Dwarves have a subtle talent for working in the most off color things so poetically. But the intent was training me to speak., to have a presence.”
He’s not sure he really GOT the presence his father and grandfather had hoped the lessons would give him, but it gave him the habit of immediately responding, and never outright refusing a suggestion, instead asking for explanations along the way. It helped, in other words.
“Lecture away.” Calum assures, saluting with his practice blade before settling into a rest. “I’m actually interested.”
“Typically, with lighter stuff - like fan combat or knives, you’d have small evenly weighted blades. We don’t have the locking mechanism, and we wouldn’t use it in the practice yard anyways. You’d usually shift to a spear or a staff if you wanted to practice that kind of moves.” Noah gestures at the practice options. “I was working on the heavier end of things, with - I suppose a heavy sword would be a good term for it. Broadsword? And a lighter curved parrying blade. More of a short sword. It’d work the same, but I’m probably going to want to find similar. If nothing else, it’d feel the same?”
He can kind of picture Calum running around on a stage and a group of adults trying very hard to not explain exactly what was going on with the nurse’s skirts in certain scenes. “Acting does sound like it’d be enjoyable. Master Ffamran probably had some lessons in ribbon dancing or fan work. Or daggers. Just from how he carried himself on the practice field. And I swear he could hold a conversation in nothing but references to plays if you got him in the right mood.”
Iomhar’s not participating in this, for a few reasons, but he IS paying attention and listening while he gets some gear ready for a bit of a bout later on. “I knew a duelist who had a similar style.” He volunteers. “She was smaller and faster, so she opted to the light end of things, but that idea of being able to move in and out quickly?” He offers. “It sounds like you’ve got similar with the added weight and skill. Heavier’d take more control, wouldn’t it, no?”
Calum did have an experience somewhat like that, yes. It’d explain too, why his grandfather always had coughing fits when he asked a few questions about some of the scenes while his parents looked appalled and muttered things about this not being funny. Not that he still sees what’s FUNNY about ‘romance’ besides the fact people get awkward around discussing sex and come up with stupid euphemisms anyway.
“Wait. Ffamran.” Iomhar looks delighted. “Your brother’s pirate? I’d no idea the connections went THAT deeply. And that sounds absolutely delightful. Like someone that’d suit Ser Basch well.”
Noah looks confused, but he’s picked up two swords that are close enough in weight to what he’s looking for. “I thought the pirate fellow was some Assassin named Balthier. Master Ffamran’s more of an engineer. He’s done piloting work, but he definitely isn’t a sky pirate.”
He moves to the at rest position and his brain turns over what Basch has said. “And - that doesn’t make sense - I suppose they must’ve bonded over both being from home. There’s no way my brother could know the man.” After all, Balthier was of age when Basch was working as a knight in Dalmasca, and a child prior to that point. Prior to the fall of Dalmasca, Balthier was freshly getting settled into being a Judge in the army.
“He’s with the assassins.” Iomhar explains, “They got to him first, and it does seem like a fitting choice.” He likes the assassins in theory. They’ve got an eye on Aedan, he knows, but he wouldn’t mind joining up with them himself. Is that crazy?Probably at this stage. “But yes, Balthier was Ffamran, once. Two older siblings who are pretty protective, a brother with a cane, a sister with a…” he isn’t sure how to put it. “Mission, I suppose, and in love with your brother. Search me for how they met. Something of past lives, I’m told.”
“Past lives?” Calum raises an eyebrow. Sure, they happen. Or, at least, they do here, He’s aware of a few people it’s happened to. There’s the lawyer fellow who isn’t a lawyer, and now Balthier and...he thinks a few others. “That’s an interesting thought. Probably saved for when we’re not distracted, Hari. “
Noah nods. “I hope he’s . . . happy enough with them. From what I saw, the Bunansa house wasn’t the best.” He looks at Calum. “So, theory - non dominant hand is your parrying hand. Other hand is your dominant weapon. Want me to show you that form I did the first time you were there?”
It’s not too bad. A basic dive, a sweep, and the turn. He could probably handle it with Iomhar watching.
“Not the best.” Calum nods, frowning, From what he saw on Basch and Noah, he has an idea of what ‘not the best’ might look like to them, and it’s appalling. From the look on Iomhar’s face, he wants to ask more, straight away, though he’s distracted from that line of questioning with a little bark and blur of red hair.
“C’mon then, Firebug.” Iomhar directs, when Ellie’s close enough. “We’ll step a yard over and see what you do with a polearm and a good dog, right?”
It’s leaving Calum and Noah to focus on each other, anyway, and Calum looks relieved they’re alone for this. “Good.” he says, when the two pairs are out of earshot of each other. “Hari’s been.” He tries to copy the pieces of the move in slow motion, getting as far as most of the sweep, though that’s unwieldy. “Well, very worried about what you and Basch came from. He investigated things like that at home, was a friend of people in very low places and he can’t stand to see it when someone’s been harmed bad as you two, and probably Baltheir, were.”
“For all that Dr. Cid wasn’t that fatherly, I doubt he’d let Master Ffamran anywhere near Nalbina’s dungeons,” Noah says. “I’m grateful for that, at least. Try - I’m going to touch your arm here, near the elbow and the shoulder on the parrying side. Some of how you hold that arm depends on how flexible you are. You’re kind of using the weight of the sword for the downswing on the other hand, and this side is bracing if you have a blow coming for your eyes.”
“One might hope.” Calum agrees, though he really wonders how sure Noah is, he knows that now isn’t the time, and practice is the order of the day. “Best put my thoughts aside then.” he says, almost as if convincing himself rather fervently. “It’d hardly do for the prince to catch me slacking.” He keeps the tone light, though there’s something urgent in it too, “Forgive me, your time is too valuable to waste if I intend to waste it, slacking about.”
And so he falls into the rhythm, his expression guarded more and more with each mistake or correction he needs to make throughout the practice. When they’ve finished, he’s looking seriously at Noah as they head for the showers. “How badly did I manage?” He asks, trying not to cringe at the thought as Iomhar joins them. “I’ll work of course.” He adds,. “To be better for the next time. I hardly wish to humiliate anyone.”
“You’re always a pleasure to work with,” Noah offers quietly. “How are your shoulders? You’re lighter on your feet than I ever was. That was always my weakest point, no matter if I had a mop or a real weapon. I tended to pick a direction or stance and stick with it, and assume my weight and height could take a hit.” He gestures trying to show the general way he’d go flying if someone knew that. “Compared to me, when I was starting lessons, you’re far better to strike than I was. You’re faster, as well, in general.”
He, early on, had a spotter who was working with him, and honestly just about passed out after every practice in the showers. Most of those sessions were a blur of downing a ton of water and getting woken up in the showers with his shoulders aching and sort of a sea of words about how the gear always was rough and that they should just do things mundanely with protective armor like the green recruits. It wasn’t - terrible as much as - there were expectations for a Judge Magister and the bodyguard of Lord Larsa. It was how he got to know the other Judge Magisters, really, since some of them would join in, and grumble their way through the shower and Drace dragging him off to eat.
“I think he may be a bit disoriented.” Iomhar offers from behind Noah, frowning a little as he steps around to study his big brother.”You’re not sixteen Cal, and Athair’s not here to disapprove of you or send you off to practice forms til you collapse.” He’s pressuring a bit of cloth to what appears to be a deeply bleeding slice under his eye. “This is Ser Noah, remember?” He presses, raising a brow at Noah.
“I...Hmm.” Calum seems to jerk back to himself suddenly, looking chagrined to say the least. “Ah. Sorry. One of us had to be the lumbering giant,” he explains, nodding at Iomhar,”And I didn’t quite have the build for it.” He says to the mention of being lighter on his feet. “And my shoulder’s…” he tries to move it and frowns. “It’s …. a bit sore actually. Are YOU all right?”
Noah tests his shoulder as well. “Not too bad. I was pretty useless after practice about ten years ago though, so don’t feel like this is unusual. My fault for not stopping earlier. I’ve got - let me find it.” He digs around in his change of clothes to offer the healing balm to Calum. “This’ll help. And I am only Noah. Definitely not planning on asking anyone to collapse for the sake of thinking it’d teach someone something.”
He looks serious, still holding the balm. “You did well, Calum. I am honored to be teaching you.”
Calum does smile, accepting the balm and though he still looks serious, he shakes his head a bit, “And I’ve just realized I cycle I need to pull my head out of.” He tells Noah, shaking his head a little. “When we were younger it was less about, well, no one expected we’d be perfect, but too many obvious mistakes and you’d find yourself practicing in the courtyard much of the night. I would at least.” he adds, sounding like it’s something he’s brushing off. “Not exactly as a punishment, but as a…” He shakes his head a little. “We all knew that something was coming, that I’d need to be prepared and not waste time doing other things when I would have to fight my way out. No time for much reading or music when I might not do it well enough.”
Iomhar shakes his head, giving Noah a long look. “Athair would have had him out most of the night aside food and making sure he didn’t pass out or get ill. Prince things.” He shakes his head. “He meant well, but let’s call a spade a spade, did a shite job making that clear.”
And then he’s glancing at Noah. “It’s probably not the time…” Noah’s mention of Balthier’s family life has him concerned though. “But you did say that the Bunasas’ life at home was...less than ideal.” he winces “How did you mean?”
Noah frowns and tries to resist the urge to find some way of deflecting the question. “That’s -” He shakes his head as well. “Sit, at least. Have some water. I’m going to be wrestling with the rank issues involved with that, and the answer’s simple, even if the background stuff isn’t.”
He makes himself get a glass of water as well and leans against the wall. “I didn’t meet the family until I was a Judge Magister. We were - picture people who were the top of the ranks judicially, simply because we were the hand of the ruling family, the bodyguards of said family, and the head of the military. I specifically was taken in because I’d be decent as a bodyguard for one of the heirs. Doctor Cidolfus Demen Bunansa is the head of military weapon research. And completely secure in his position, since he invented some very powerful weapons.”
He doesn’t mention that beyond that, a mere Judge wouldn’t really meet Dr. Cid socially. Especially not some young thing from Landis. Meanwhile, that very same background was perfect for Lord Larsa, Vayne argued, because he had no home to miss, no network to try to influence him, and no family members who were at all close.
Iomhar does sit, though he keeps focused on Noah the entire time.”You and Basch were badly harmed when you came here.” he says, snagging his water bottle, sipping, then passes it at Calum. “Rank issues, Sounds serious.”
“Rather, I’d imagine. Calum pops his head out of the shower, rubs a towel over his head and face, then leaves it draped around his middle as he heads out and tugs on a clean shirt, leaving his trousers off for now. “No one pulls them for no reason. We know THAT. But the rest..how awful could it go? More than here, certainly.”
Noah looks at Iomhar, but the guy seems intent on watching, and he might want to wait before he tries the showers. So - he tugs his shirt off. “Mind if I go next? And it’s more - professionally, I didn’t like Dr. Cid that much, and personally I didn’t like him that much. I don’t think he saw his children as children as much as - a weapon to achieve an aim. The first time we met, he immediately told me that his youngest son could iron all his things and he’d be a Judge soon.”
Noah drains the rest of his water. “So that’d be jumping up several ranks, and Ffamran then was ten. I ended up walking the kid back to his dad’s office to wait out some confidential talks when he was twelve, and I saw more of his siblings, since they got in the army earlier. Ffamran got signed on at seventeen, and I did push things a bit to keep him working on engineering which he enjoyed and not going straight to a battlefield.”
But that’s professionally. Personal opinions - well - “About five years ago, Dr. Cid went from paranoid and dramatic to something a lot closer to - I suppose insane is a poor noun to use, but accurate.”
“Please,” Iomhar agrees, still working on getting his cut’s bleeding under control. It’s hit just under his eye, but neatly so.”Seventeen and the field. It’s strange how YOUNG that really is. It never felt it at the time.” he adds, and,then. ‘I don’t know that I like the sound of paranoid and dramatic.”
“Well, I was seventeen. But - I agree. It was too young.” Noah strips down and heads for the shower. “Personally, when I heard Ffamran talking about getting out, I didn’t tell anyone else. And from what I heard, his dad was being very - it wasn’t blatant, but it was controlling. Late hours in the lab and wanting him on call. I don’t think you saw him off military property unless he was heading home or his siblings brought him out for lunch. Evan was recovering from a leg injury, and his sister was usually working some sector or another in Archades. It wasn’t as obvious with them.”
There wasn’t something explicitly illegal about it. If the head of weapon research wanted an underling to be on call, that wasn’t on paper a bad thing. The newspapers loved the general contrast of Isannah’s temper, Evan’s diplomacy, and Ffamran’s glib irreverence. The fact that Ffamran looked so close to his father’s features just played into that story. Noah turns on the shower and leans on the wall while he’s fumbling with the soap. “I take it that Master Balthier was injured when he arrived.”
“That’s..” Iomhar frowns, thinking about similar he’s seen. “Sounds a bit like some of the templars at home, the leashes they’d try tying the truly dedicated ones with. Obligations and duties and emergencies and being needed...as good as some of those make a person feel.” he makes a face, very obviously disapproving of where this is all going.
“He was, so I hear.” He’s trying to remember now. “Something about his shoulders being off for one, cuts from a lashing for another.” That goes with a shudder. “Our parents shouldn’t have had any of us, or gotten much involved in our upbringing, but I can say this for them, they would never have gone that far, or ordered that much.”
“Off,” Noah echoes as he emerges and wraps a towel around his waist to be semi proper. “I’m glad the assassins met him then. Lashings weren’t - entirely illegal, but - they also weren’t -” He trails off and snags a towel to dry his hair off. “It’s not standard, at any rate. Having scars would draw attention to him.”
He frowns. “When I was in prison, people kept asking me about Bunansa meeting me. I wonder if Dr. Cid somehow got in trouble over some kind of violent altercation with Ffamran. Or someone thought I signed off on something Dr. Cid did.” Or - worse still, that Ffamran had contacted him and gotten strung up and beaten for it. He could think of, for example, at least three ways to hurt shoulders in Nalbina. His brother, sadly, could probably list all of them as well.
“It makes sense.” Calum nods at the last part. “Tranquil mages are marked after. It captures the attention of anyone who would want to misuse them, a definite sign that they’re vulnerable people. I could see where something like that, scars that would point to having been a problem for someone in the past, however unfairly it happened would be very bad.”
It does seem like a mess, no matter how it’s put, doesn’t it? “And learning what happened could be difficult. I doubt he was in the shape to retain details, or given many.”
“At least he’s here. And there’s someone keeping an eye on what’s happening where he is. I could see him being worried, considering his father’s work and all, with trusting that he’s safe anywhere. Even without the magicite, I suspect some of the military designs would still function, given the right power sources.” Noah leans to snag a shirt for himself. “Basch will be good for that. He’s always happiest, I think, when he feels he’s got a purpose. I never could entirely find peace in that, since I was more selfish, I suppose.”
He’d wanted pride. A sense of honor. That his duty was also accomplishing something and honorable, not just that it was work.
“I don’t think it’s so selfish as that.” Calum says, looking serious as he runs a brush through his hair.”You’re like Sebastian that way. Things have to matter for them to feel important to you, no, don’t they?”
He gets it, in a way, though he’s never had the same sort of concerns. He’s always been more content with his books or histories or instruments, even though he loves his family and can fake the rest when he needs it.
“There’ll always be the people who can find a purpose in what needs to be done, even the worst of jobs, the dirtiest and most despicable.” He glances to Iomhar, as he says that, though in the moment it’s hard to reconcile a man tying a beach towel featuring Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie around his waist with the things he’s known Iomhar to do of his own voilition or arrange for other people where he can’t manage to handle things himself.
“But sometimes, well, you always need those called to higher purposes, even here and now. You are a soldier. Even if you don’t go back in the same ways to soldiering, the best of that lot are always about having their efforts make the difference, and the work itself does honor a country or a leader, aye now? It’s weel wared on those who manage to get that done and do it well.”
“Aye,” Noah agrees, as he shakes out his trousers to pull them on. “I peeled enough potatoes in my day to likely feed this castle twice over, but I didn’t feel I did work until I worked with the green recruits. They were never brainless muscle memory, scared or angry as they were. And even if you got stuck explaining something to kids that should’ve come from their parents, there was - a pride to it.”
“THAT makes sense.” Iomhar nods at the last. He does miss, not the fighting itself, well, sort of, but the SPIRIT of it, more than anything else that might come about, or that HAS, for that matter. “There’s something in having and knowing your group, making sure they get home again, or finding out the reasons, the real ones they’ve not done it. That said, Cal’s right. I’ve done some awful things in the name of Starkhaven. But I do doubt I’m the only one.” He glances straight at Noah as he says that, thinking about what he knows of Basch and Noah, and well, the things they’re probably all of them thinking.
Was it entirely for Landis, though? Some of why Noah agreed with Vayne’s original plan was that he didn’t want to die (since everyone knew what happened when you impeded Vayne’s plans and you weren’t Lord Larsa.) Still - some of it was revenge, in a way. That sort of cold feeling that being caught in the gears of fate was the punishment for being idealistic and a fool to not see where the wind was blowing. “Sin isn’t necessarily the action, as much as what you do aftewards,” Noah says, and gets another glass of water. “And I never -” He trails off. It’s not - he might feel comfortable, telling Calum, that he hated to ask for anything because he never could quite trust that the world would take that information as something other than a tool to be used.
“You never…” Calum glances at him, curious. “Never what?” Because he does want to hear this, in a way. “It feels like that’s important to you, enough that you want to tell someone. I think the both of us can be a safe font for it, if you’re comfortable.”
Because...he DOES want to know, honestly. It’s probably rude of him, but screw it. Other people in this bathroom have rubbed off on him over the years. In the most non literal fashion ever, naturally. Iomhar may be many things, but he’s only disturbing in his penchant for violence and his odd entertainment choices.
“It’s -” Noah scrubs a hand through his hair. “If you asked me if I needed another coat, I’d say no. Even if having something lighter for the rain here might be good. Asking for things always ended up being a trust thing. That I never felt like I should or I could or that it wouldn’t turn around to -” He waves a hand. “Neurotic something or another, I guess.” Deflection. He knew that was deflection. Deprecating himself - even a stray had pride and trying to deflect from the center of the matter.
“Getting by?” Iomhar’s had soldiers like that. “Because admitting to that would be...too difficult under what you describe.” He frowns. “Good leaders should never have anyone afraid of getting the things they need. It’s part of the job to make sure everyone’s provided for so they can do their jobs properly.”
He really, really doesn’t like the idea of that being a status quo. “It...makes sense, then, a little, about Basch. Cultures of fear or…” he glances at Calum. “Whatever you were rambling about being the problem in most feudal ruling structures, princes being nothing beside principles…Taken to the obvious other extreme, or even not EXTREME, but other side of that coin...you get similar set ups, aye?”
“With . . . Basch?” Noah asks. He feels a sort of sinking feeling in his stomach, and the room feels a bit too small. He could open the door. It’d be colder for everyone in here, but - he could. It’s an exit. He can’t entirely - yes, Calum seems damaged by his childhood, judging by the fear of cornering Noah and by the way he just - yielded like he was sure that Noah had the right to do anything to him to be sure he learned something that - he said he wanted to know.
In a way, some of his unease is that Calum’s not pointing out that Noah can leave right now.
“Hari.” Calum says, his voice dropping very low, in one of those ‘you might have just done something really stupid’ tones of voice, and he’s looking at Noah sympathetically. “I think you’re a little out of line. It’s not exactly your business.” And he’s looking to Noah and sighing. “I hope this doesn’t change...I’d like to continue spending time with you, although I completely understand you’re probably ready to quit us right now, and it’d be deserved.” And there’s something in Noah’s look that’s a little caged and…
“You’re able to leave here, any time you need.” he adds.
“Well, yes, with Basch.” Iomhar continues, though he’s looking a little unsure now. “I...maybe I should stop.” He admits. “But I can see where a culture like that would…”
The door is pushing open then, and there’s Basch, managing to look calm and not like he’s been listening to most of the parts of this conversation that have to do with his brother. Hanzo’s in the background looking, well, slightly ill himself.
“I think that stopping may be a good idea, yes.” Basch manages to keep his voice calm enough as he looks at Noah. “We were shooting, well, Hanzo was shooting. I was watching.” He amends. “And we happened to come through. I hope we aren’t interrupting anything important.” He’s relieved that they seem to have done it, actually. The last thing he wants is Noah hurt, even by the good intentions of other people who should know better for their extensive backgrounds in working with people.
“We should talk ourselves, your highness.” Hanzo gives Iomhar a long look. “There are some things I think you do not consider, or know of some of our backgrounds.” Namely,his own and his experiences with brothers and hurting them for other reasons and causes that make no sense in the light of day. “You could come along, of course, your highess. Your other highness?” He nods at Calum, shrugging off the address.
“I do think we have...a bit to talk over.” Basch tries to say that gently, giving Noah a sad sort of smile. “Want to take a walk? I’d heard there was a sale on bundt pans at that little kitchen boutique we found.”
Noah bundles his clothes together and tries to avoid looking at whatever that expression is on Hanzo’s face. Or Calum’s. At least his face is normal in the mirror instead of that constant easily read mess that it’s been. “We don’t have to quit. I can fight my own line, brother.” It’d be easy to say something about how he’s managed it half his life but - no. He’s trying to tamp that down. It’s foolish to hold grudges when he has no right. “And - we can walk. If you’ll excuse me, Officer Hanzo, Ser Calum, Ser Iomhar.”
“Of course you can.” Basch agrees, his tone firm on that point. “I have never doubted it. But WILL you? Sometimes you forget the things you need, twin of mine.” His tone is pretty fond there. “You devalue so many things that have to do with yourself and your own needs and feelings.” Now that he’s heard Noah admit it, Basch intends to make an effort in looking out for those. “You’ve fought valiantly alone much of your life. You do not need to anymore.” But that’s better added to in private isn’t it?
Calum gives Noah a little nod, mouthing an apology. “Until next time, then.” he offers, Preferably ALONE.
Noah looks at Calum and points to the balm. Use some? He’s pretty sure he can mimic the serious “don’t forget your hat” face. “Very well. Lead me on my airing then. We should stop by the gate house. These are too dusty to carry into a store.”
“Airing.” Basch snorts. “There’s an apt word if ever I heard one used. But good idea, I can grab the adverts then too.” ANd he pauses, looking at Noah as they start the walk back, searching for the right words. “Whatever it is you need, and whenever you need it, you only need to say now, brother. Not to ASK, but to say. We’ll find a way to see it done.”
“That was -” Noah sighs and fiddles with a button that’s getting loose on his practice clothes. “Would you promise to do the same?” It’s odd of all the things he said, it’s the - trusting that people wouldn’t use things against you is the one that Basch wants to bring up first.
“Of course I will.” Basch agrees, and his tone is firm. “I’ve got a lot of things I must work on here too.” he points out, very seriously. “You think yours are glaring because they are so recent but I recall a time before … things that I ought not to have done. You deserved, you still deserve better. The good news is I think we’ve got a chance to make it happen.”
“It would be . . . it would be nice. You deserve all the chances I can get you.” Noah feels a bit unsteady and he’s pretty sure his face is back to looking as lost as he feels when they get to the gate house. “Are we really just going out to get a bundt pan?” He thought his brother surely wanted to demand something, right?
“I’d thought the walk might give us a chance to, if you wanted to talk a bit about everything in there.” Basch answers. “And if you want not to talk, it could give you some time to gather your thoughts a bit.” He pauses, then lets out a deep breath. “You realize you need some time yourself, to recover from what’s happened? Not only after I was gone, but during...you put so much of yourself aside, to stay safe while you were around Vayne. Living in so much fear..that has a toll.”
He’s not sure if it helps, if that can ever help, or he can ever truly understand what Noah went through, but he can’t dismiss his brother’s struggles easily, not ever. Not when there were reasons, crystal clear ones, in a war. He can, however, try to brighten the moment a little.
“Besides. Haven’t you always wanted to eat a cake shaped like a dragon?”
“Do you think we could get Aedan to eat a dragon shaped cake?” Noah asks, trying to sound like he’s okay. He drops off his clothing and heads to snag some of the aspirin since he knows finding the advert will likely take a while. Plus - deflection. He must be feeling uneasy. “Lord Vayne wasn’t around all the time. I reported to the Emperor as well. But - in my experience, Vayne was the more dangerous one. He was -”
Noah trails off fiddling with the bottle. “People said I was lucky, since he was almost fond of me, in a way.”