[ The moment the name is spoke, Estinien's mind races to several conclusions. He had his suspicions, of course, because who else could enthrall the city of Ishgard so easily? Even if their homeland had taken great strides of progress since the Dragonsong War, traditions and heroes of eld rarely dissipated over night. The name now confirmed merely cements in his mind how Ser Aymeric the Blue of all would fall to the primal's influence. He was not there when the primal image of King Thordan I was summoned--all he has is as much as any of them beyond the sisters that bear the title of Warriors of Light. Much of that time is clouded memories due to Nidhogg possessing him shortly after.
His eyes widen as Aymeric continues. Of course, he speaks as a Lord Commander and one of the battlefield. However, he knows his friend would not sacrifice the lives of his kin in war. He knows little of enthrallment and how far it may warp and twist the mind... but he is quickly learning. Thordan--whoever has summoned him--has quite clearly warped the love his brother has for their homeland into one of religious fever. Something, Estinien would note, that Aymeric never was. Not only has it warped that, but it feasts and preys on the unspoken desire of being recognized by his birth father.
In a single moment, the once-Azure Dragoon finds himself more horrified at the idea of what Aymeric could become. Something far more terrifying than Nidhogg and his Horde. Revenge, anger, hate and despair run deep and can motivate a man or dragon to do terrible things. Love, as he has seen, can be a stronger motivator. He can dimly recall an unknown face and that of Ysayle Iceheart over him as Nidhogg began to wane from his mind. If love of any form could defeat the great wrym once and for all... then love could surely fuel a man desperate for it to a holy war with no end. ]
You speak of King Thordan I, the man who threw dragonkind and Ishgard into a thousand years worth of war when he betrayed Ratatoskr. [ Estinien finds himself appalled even speaking of the man as he stands there in armor once worn by those who protected the wrym. ] The man who coveted power over the very peace our peoples lived in! The choices that that man made who caused the deaths of countless of both our kinds. You truly think that man is capable of bringing peace?!
[ A low, seething exhale escapes him. No, he knows of who Aymeric truly speaks of. The visage of the King that the Holy See cultivated over a thousand years. The idealization of the King that Aymeric's own father worshiped more than Halone Herself. The dragoon closes his eyes and calms himself as best as he can. Now, he has a clear picture of what turns in the bright-glowing eyes of his brother.
The right thing must be said. While he may not have the tact that Alphinaud has when it comes to language or words? He knows how to point words to strike hard at a foe. His arms cross as he stares the other man down evenly. ]
Let us be frank with one another, brother. [ No doubt this will send the once commander in a fit of rage. Hopefully, it will be a blow hard enough to rattle the mind. ] The adoration you seek from this would-be-god will never happen. It is a primal. It is Thordan in name only--neither the once king nor your misguided delusional egotistical father. A father, might I remind you, who had no wish to deal with you once you were born. He who threw you as some shameful secret; only for you to be taken in by a minor noble house. No amounts of action in war, no amounts of status or titles, would bring that man to love you.
However, your lady-wife to be, most certainly does love you. I have traveled with her only a handful of times, but it is clear to any with the capability to see that you are the world to her. You would throw that away for a love you will never see?!
no subject
His eyes widen as Aymeric continues. Of course, he speaks as a Lord Commander and one of the battlefield. However, he knows his friend would not sacrifice the lives of his kin in war. He knows little of enthrallment and how far it may warp and twist the mind... but he is quickly learning. Thordan--whoever has summoned him--has quite clearly warped the love his brother has for their homeland into one of religious fever. Something, Estinien would note, that Aymeric never was. Not only has it warped that, but it feasts and preys on the unspoken desire of being recognized by his birth father.
In a single moment, the once-Azure Dragoon finds himself more horrified at the idea of what Aymeric could become. Something far more terrifying than Nidhogg and his Horde. Revenge, anger, hate and despair run deep and can motivate a man or dragon to do terrible things. Love, as he has seen, can be a stronger motivator. He can dimly recall an unknown face and that of Ysayle Iceheart over him as Nidhogg began to wane from his mind. If love of any form could defeat the great wrym once and for all... then love could surely fuel a man desperate for it to a holy war with no end. ]
You speak of King Thordan I, the man who threw dragonkind and Ishgard into a thousand years worth of war when he betrayed Ratatoskr. [ Estinien finds himself appalled even speaking of the man as he stands there in armor once worn by those who protected the wrym. ] The man who coveted power over the very peace our peoples lived in! The choices that that man made who caused the deaths of countless of both our kinds. You truly think that man is capable of bringing peace?!
[ A low, seething exhale escapes him. No, he knows of who Aymeric truly speaks of. The visage of the King that the Holy See cultivated over a thousand years. The idealization of the King that Aymeric's own father worshiped more than Halone Herself. The dragoon closes his eyes and calms himself as best as he can. Now, he has a clear picture of what turns in the bright-glowing eyes of his brother.
The right thing must be said. While he may not have the tact that Alphinaud has when it comes to language or words? He knows how to point words to strike hard at a foe. His arms cross as he stares the other man down evenly. ]
Let us be frank with one another, brother. [ No doubt this will send the once commander in a fit of rage. Hopefully, it will be a blow hard enough to rattle the mind. ] The adoration you seek from this would-be-god will never happen. It is a primal. It is Thordan in name only--neither the once king nor your misguided delusional egotistical father. A father, might I remind you, who had no wish to deal with you once you were born. He who threw you as some shameful secret; only for you to be taken in by a minor noble house. No amounts of action in war, no amounts of status or titles, would bring that man to love you.
However, your lady-wife to be, most certainly does love you. I have traveled with her only a handful of times, but it is clear to any with the capability to see that you are the world to her. You would throw that away for a love you will never see?!