So. Here he is. At the banquet. Nowhere to escape. To his right are Nanna, Lord Leif, Lord Quan, and Lady Ethlyn. It is a formidable set of people whom he never did expect to see fully in his life.
Cold. His body is so very cold. It is not a winter chill but...there seems to be not a drop of warmth left inside of him.
How can he face his lieges like this? After having survived all these odds in the wars, he has become a shell of a man. Finn is not stupid. He knows it. He is no longer worthy to fight alongside and serve these people....
Yes. That is why he should have disappeared in the Aed desert, after leaving Lord Leif to take on the throne. Someone as disgusting as him has no right to be in the presence of such.....such magnificence.
It's blinding. It hurts. It stuns him and makes him want to hide. And he knows he is a coward. For his long yearned for wish has come forward but he cannot even relish in it.
Finn turns to his daughter. At least she can stand him. Despicable or not, he can be himself around her. He raised her through the most difficult of times and nothing can take that away from him. They are not bound by blood but by choice. Just that gives Finn the tiniest glimmer of hope.
"Nanna," Finn speaks softly. "Are you ok at the party?" He knows she puts on a face. He knows she is the perfect princess. After all, Finn has always tried to protect her and failed. Nanna was destined for greatness.
"Just stay by my side if you need to," he mutters. He couldn't deny that he missed her. "But if you want to have fun, go ahead."
Maybe....maybe that was enough to make him smile......just a little.
She was trying not to look. It felt strange, to look over to her right and see her fiance's siloquette... eyes matching his mother's profile, and hairline nearly matching his father's. What was more was how overjoyed she was to see them all at the table—she had never dared to entertain that thought in the past. But now that it resided beside her, she felt at odds with herself... In many ways, she had hoped that this second coming of Lord Quan, Lady Ethlyn, and even Lord Sigurd would signal a second wave to her father. He had raised Lord Leif and herself on their stories after all... their legacies. He had raised her to be a princess, even without the crown. Somehow, in their glory, she had thought that he would be more... pleased. That he would embrace them, that he would cry tears worth his decades worth of service.
She thought that perhaps he would hit that sort of catharsis, for all the honor he spoke into their names. He was the last of their generation, after all.
But perhaps it was a matter of shock. A matter of time. A matter of... something. Something she could not fathom. He was like a message to the moon, a silent prayer with no real concern if it would answer him back. And now, it did, and it could. She gently parted her hands, to glide gracefully over his. A squeeze.
It had never once crossed her mind that her father was not her kin. Never.
Just that she needed him. She wanted him to see her. And in the years that came and went, it seemed like he had come to need her, too. But... that was simply her reading into things. Into his brows, into the fold of his lips, into the crisp way his cuffs were pulled. She had to read into things, even if she wasn't sure if they were truly smoked lines leading to fire.
"..." She smiled, not sure how to answer his first inquiry. Yes. Actually. Yes, she was fine. But in some ways, it felt like he wasn't.
She had more tact to utter nothing than to dig her father a deeper grave.
"Thank you, Father... Please, do stay by me. It has been so long since I've eaten supper with you."
Her eyes crinkled affectionately, crows feet made beautiful with love. "Do you remember the time I asked Lady Linoan to help me sneak a plate of turkey to your room to eat with you? I can't help but think how silly it was, to cry my way into getting to share a meal together." She derailed the conversation, fondly. "Oh! And the times we had in the barracks, squeezed two-by-two on those logs by the fire."
