"Oh Sora," Tifa shook her head. "No, no, darling." There was nothing to be sorry for.
"Sora," Leon said, looked around to make sure there were no servants lurking around, and pulled up the side of his shirt so that Sora could see the wide bandage there. "Your Mother saved my life. We have not let it get out. Only she, myself, your uncle Cloud, and Master Zexion know." They'd hidden it. To maintain that illusion of power and health. "Do not tell you sister." She didn't need to know; he didn't want her to worry.
"You were injured, yes. But that is not your fault, Sora. My Father, your Grandfather, had a saying. That only those who put themselves in danger run the risk of dying. He may have yelled this at me, several times, when I fought at the beginning of the war. I was his only legal son. I had a wife and young child. Why was I putting myself in danger on the battlefield, when I could let other men who were there for just that reason? So I told him, I said Father, no King is ever loved for just sitting sill. You got hurt protecting your people. There is no shame in that. You will just get better at hiding it, as you age."
Leon gently wiped the tears from his son's cheeks. "You took on the battle at the keep like a King. A more timid Prince would have let the enemy hold the keep in siege, and wait until they were rescued or so weak that their only option was to fight or die. You were decisive, and so brave. And I am so proud of you, Sora."
"Yes Sir. This way," Riku said, leading Cloud down the hall and up the stairs towards his old room. "Yes, I do not expect to see So-His Majesty again tonight." Which was alright, wasn't it? He needed time with his family.
"Here," Riku said, stopping before his own room and unlocking the door. It felt... painfully small after spending so much time in a larger room. And painfully empty. His bed, only big enough for one, was neatly made against the far corner. A small table set with a couple of undecorated mugs sat on his tiny table. His wardrobe against the far wall; containing his old work uniforms and a few under clothes. His wooden chest from the servants quarters; empty, because they took anything precious with them to the keep. A candle stick. A cold fire grate. It felt so alien to him.
"I'm sorry," Riku said, feeling himself slip back into his untrained speech. "Its not much."