Aiden didn't speak.
His gaze was fixed downward—on his clenched hands.
"...Why?" he asked, voice low. Not quiet with gentleness—quiet with effort. The kind that's holding something tightly, just beneath the surface.
Elliott looked sideways, uncomfortable. The warmth of the room suddenly felt suffocating. He could still feel the lingering weight of Aiden's question heavy on his chest.
Instinctively, he tried to deflect. "I don't know for sure—"
"Just tell me what you know!" Aiden snapped, cutting him off with a rare and sudden sharpness. His voice cracked under the strain—too raw to be just anger. But then he caught himself, exhaling shakily. The next words came out softer, almost a plea.
"...Please."
Elliott hesitated, but nodded. He couldn't look at Aiden directly, not yet. Instead, he stared ahead—eyes unfocused.
"Your father... General Rosethorne... he was a threat. Popular, especially after the second war with the Altherians. He was a warlord, yes—but kind. Respected. Loved. He fought not to conquer or dominate—but to protect his people."
Aiden remained quiet. His stillness was palpable.
"He got too popular," Elliott continued, voice dipping low like a confession. "He controlled a sizeable portion of the military. After the victory, his influence skyrocketed. And he... he was one of the few who dared to vocally criticize my father's... less merciful decisions. Unflinching. Principled."
Elliott's voice turned bitter at the edges. "My father began to see him as a threat. Someone who could possibly organize a coup. Overthrow him."
He paused—then looked over at Aiden at last.
"And my father—" his voice cracked, trembling despite his attempt to stay composed, "—he didn't tolerate threats."
The silence stretched. Elliott turned his head, gaze fully meeting Aiden's now. He braced himself.
Aiden's breath came out sharp. Shallow. He looked up—eyes meeting Elliott's, unreadable.
"You knew," he whispered.
Elliott nearly flinched. "I... suspected," he admitted, quietly. "I'm sorry."
Aiden didn't acknowledge the apology.
His fists clenched tighter. Hard enough that his nails dug into his palms, crescent moons of blood blooming faintly beneath the skin.
"And you never told me?" His voice was lower this time, but something in it was beginning to fray.
Elliott didn't speak.
Aiden's voice rose, each syllable sharper, harsher, the words dragging fury behind them like a storm gathering speed. "Did you never think I goddamned deserved to know how—or why—my entire family died?!"
Elliott flinched visibly this time. The words struck with the force of a blade.
"What would it have changed?!" he shot back, voice breaking, desperate now. "My father is dead, Aiden! You can't have vengeance! All it would've done is... make you hate me instead."
Aiden stood abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the marble floor.
He towered over Elliott now—his shadow falling over the older man in a way that felt... wrong. Not dangerous, but tragic.
And for the briefest moment—Elliott felt fear.
His body moved before thought could intervene—his hands raised, instinctive, shielding—not to block, but to soften. He didn't move away. Didn't expect to stop a blow. Just... braced himself.
But Aiden didn't lift a hand.
He froze, mid-step. His expression shifted from fury to something far more devastating.
Shock.
Disbelief.
As if the image of Elliott flinching from him had struck harder than any insult.
His hands trembled as they came up to cover his face, like he didn't know what else to do with them. His chest rose and fell sharply as he took a breath, then another, trying to calm the chaos inside him.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. Strained but steady.
"You think... you think I'd blame you?" he asked, not looking at Elliott. The question wasn't really a question at all. The answer was already written in Elliott's posture. In the defensive way his arms had raised. The way his eyes had closed—not expecting pain, but resigned to it.
Elliott's throat closed.
He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Aiden stared at him, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
The disbelief bled into something worse. Hurt.
"Blame you?" he echoed, voice shaking with a bitter laugh. "I blamed myself, Elliott. For years. Wondering if they died because I did something. Because I wasn't enough."
"That's ridiculous—" Elliott interrupted before he could stop himself, instinctively reaching to soothe. "You were an infant—"
Aiden raised a hand. Not to strike. Just... to stop him.
He wasn't yelling. But there was something in his voice that made the air feel heavier.
"I was a child, Elliott. My mind didn't care for logic. That belief festered. It lived inside me. It grew with me. And you—"
He inhaled sharply, then exhaled, letting the next words fall, quiet and lethal.
"You let me."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
The words hung in the space between them like a blade suspended in air—dangerous simply by existing.
Elliott closed his eyes.
He could have said a hundred things. Deflected. Defended. Denied.
But he didn't.
"You're right," he said finally. His voice was soft. Shaky. Honest. "I should've told you. I was..." he smiled, hollow and bitter. "I was a coward."
Aiden didn't speak. He didn't need to. The silence said enough.
So Elliott continued, breath hitching slightly as he forced the words out.
"Do you... want the full truth? The real one? No guesses. No whispers. Just... what happened. Definitively."
Aiden was quiet for a moment. Then:
"...There's nothing I'd like more."
Elliott's shoulders sagged. There was no relief in Aiden's answer. Only the pressure of what had to come next.
He took another breath.
"I won't lie—I was half hoping you wouldn't want to know," he admitted. "But... you deserve it. You always did."
Aiden watched him with narrowed eyes, waiting.
"There's someone who would know," Elliott said slowly. "Someone who can tell us the full truth. Someone who was there. At that time."
Aiden's gaze sharpened.
"...Who?"
Elliott hesitated.
Aiden didn't speak—just stared. His sharp gaze pressed in, unrelenting. Silent. Demanding.
Finally, Elliott answered.
"We'll have to go to her."