[ If she had spoken that thought, and if he had been able to respond as himself, he would have answered that yes, he did promise that, and now he has completely failed to uphold that promise. But he does not have the will to speak his own thoughts, even if she had asked that question of him.
What he does have is an image burned into his mind of a time not very long ago in which he asked the Warriors of Light to put a stop to his father by ending his life. Within that image, he does not see the faces of the two sisters that his true self had grown to love, but rather, the menacing images of those who slay primals without hesitation. And with that image comes a strong current of rage, because they dared to challenge the might of King Thordan, and would do so again if given the opportunity.
Rather than answer with words, Aymeric responds with an enraged roar that is a far cry from the articulate yet unpresumptuous way in which he would speak. There are no words in this outburst, just the unbridled fury of one whose mind has been wholly overpowered by a being far greater than himself.
When she presses herself against him, clamping her hands down onto his and attempting to hold them still, he thrashes even harder against her restraining efforts, but somehow, even though he has the might of a primal fueling him, he cannot manage to free himself.
Finally, he answers, and when he does, his tone is steely and harsh, with none of the warmth with which he usually speaks. ]
You, help me? [ A laugh, cutting and cold, bursts from him then. ] You cannot help me, not as you presently are.
[ Thordan chooses that moment to cut in, chastising Aymeric for even entertaining such an idea. The Warrior of Light will never be our ally. How foolish to even consider that she might be swayed to our goals. Abandon such thinking, because nothing will ever come of it. ]
no subject
What he does have is an image burned into his mind of a time not very long ago in which he asked the Warriors of Light to put a stop to his father by ending his life. Within that image, he does not see the faces of the two sisters that his true self had grown to love, but rather, the menacing images of those who slay primals without hesitation. And with that image comes a strong current of rage, because they dared to challenge the might of King Thordan, and would do so again if given the opportunity.
Rather than answer with words, Aymeric responds with an enraged roar that is a far cry from the articulate yet unpresumptuous way in which he would speak. There are no words in this outburst, just the unbridled fury of one whose mind has been wholly overpowered by a being far greater than himself.
When she presses herself against him, clamping her hands down onto his and attempting to hold them still, he thrashes even harder against her restraining efforts, but somehow, even though he has the might of a primal fueling him, he cannot manage to free himself.
Finally, he answers, and when he does, his tone is steely and harsh, with none of the warmth with which he usually speaks. ]
You, help me? [ A laugh, cutting and cold, bursts from him then. ] You cannot help me, not as you presently are.
[ Thordan chooses that moment to cut in, chastising Aymeric for even entertaining such an idea. The Warrior of Light will never be our ally. How foolish to even consider that she might be swayed to our goals. Abandon such thinking, because nothing will ever come of it. ]