He’s busy trying to blink the tears out of his eyes when his father speaks, and it draws his now perplexed gaze back to the man, turbulent feelings once more stirring, pulling at emotions he thought he had already buried. His apology wasn’t needed? He wants to speak, to interrupt and ask the old Emperor to elaborate, but Alm doesn’t trust himself to speak… and he’s sure his father is not finished.
And so, he remains silent yet confused, and it’s not cleared up when Rudolf finally elaborates. His anger was… justified and righteous? But he thought…
There’s so much he wants to say, and questions and words claw at his throat as if wishing to be let loose, but he tries to be prudent this time. Patient. Kind. So he swallows it all up, and gives himself the same moment his father had to try and pick his words carefully.
… or rather, by what he feels covers the most of what he’s feeling right now. “Father, I don’t understand.” (And it’s still strange, saying ‘father’)
His eyes dart about, noting once more their pretty open location, and tries to keep himself calm and steady. For his father’s sake. It helps that they’re still somewhat embracing— it’s almost soothing. His gaze, respectfully, returns to the man, although he’s unable to really look at him in the eyes, and settles for his beard, trying to blink away the tears that blur his sight. “B-besides the fact that I wasn’t… ready. We both know now I wasn’t! And…” The awkward chuckle he trails off with tumbles off sadly, and Alm sighs. “It’s not… it’s not much of an excuse. Stuff happens all the time that you’re not ready for, and I… I handled it all really badly.”
Ahem. Back to the topic! “Which is why I don’t… get it.” And just like that, his eyes fall back to his feet, unable to keep looking up as tears gather again in his eyes. “I thought it didn’t matter—! So why is it righteous and understandable for me to be upset over it? … And I can’t say I’m…not… anymore… even if I tried! But… I thought it was meaningless to be upset over what had to happen. That’s what you were trying to tell me before… right?”
He could let go of the man to wipe his tears, to try and regain his composure, he knows, but he doesn’t. Instead, with a sniffle, he leans forward, as if trying to hide his face from the world against his father. “I want to understand.”
To say that hearing his own son call him ‘father’ makes Rudolf’s heart lurch would be an understatement. It is an uncomfortable sensation, but not foreign-- painful, but in a way that is different to all the other times this sensation has made itself known. No, there is no misery or agony that accompanies it, like those nights spent mulling over everything, but instead a strange sort of warmth. A prideful sort, and one that the emperor, a man who struggles to verbally express himself in the first place, could not ever hope to find the right words to describe. All he knows is that one of his deepest wishes has been fulfilled, and that alone is enough to make Rudolf listen to his son more attentively.
If only Alm’s woes could be answered with a simple explanation.
Warily, a hand moves to rest on the back of his son’s head-- a silent response to the boy’s own actions, even if Rudolf is not entirely certain that it would be a welcome gesture. How could he begin providing an answer to something that Alm will eventually figure out all by himself? How could it be said gently-- a skill that has never quite been one that the emperor has grasped?
“...You hadn’t any say. It is not as though you asked for this life, let alone agreed to the decisions forced upon you. That alone would be enough to make it righteous,”
It is true, and something that the man has long found his own sort of grief in. Of course, Rudolf does not dare speak on his own difficult position regarding the situation-- it does not seem wise, especially when Alm is still in such a vulnerable state and so uncertain. His lips purse together for a second or two, as if to consider his next set of words carefully in an attempt to try and not upset his child further. Yet he has no experience, no memories to draw upon even with his nephew, and so, even when the father goes to speak, a subtle sort of hesitance clings to each word.
“That is how I see it. You may take it as the answer until you find one yourself.”
At the very least, that is what he can provide Alm for the time being.
“My son, the reason you find might differ from my own thoughts. Whatever it may be... there is no wrong answer.”
