[Asch doesn't speak for a while afterwards, letting the words sink in properly. He was right to assume that it couldn't worse; the way that Guy describes it - his planned murder - it sounds so coldly impersonal, the means to an end. He didn't matter at all. Like with Van, like with his father, his only value came from his usefulness in someone else's plans.
Hah. It wasn't worse, but it sure as hell wasn't better, either. At the same time, it didn't hurt the same way that it used to, when he thought about it. Maybe finally knowing the truth was enough of a relief to placate the ache of once more discovering that he'd been nothing but a pawn to be played. He's replayed the memories of those days over and over in his head so many times- searching for the truth beneath the lie of every encounter with his 'servant', every smile, every game. Guy had been so good at it; he'd fooled them all for years. But with context, hadn't there been hints? Excuses of chores or protocol to avoid playing too much, a politely subtle cold shoulder, glowers in the background when no one was looking? He'd questioned for years now if any of it had been real. Now he knows.
The people he'd most loved and admired as a child had done nothing but lie to him. It's a staggering recognition, and he's grateful all of a sudden for both the tree at his back and the fact that Guy won't look at him.
He knows he can't stay silent forever; he's probably already been quiet for too long, after hearing something like that. But the words are caught in his throat, worried and wondering, and he regrets them even as they leave his lips.]
And then Van brought Luke back.
[Dammit. He doesn't want to know. He doesn't want to hear it. He doesn't want to drag out the story of how Luke managed to win over what he could never have.
But he does want it, too. He can't help but want it. To know, to understand the truth of it.
action
Hah. It wasn't worse, but it sure as hell wasn't better, either. At the same time, it didn't hurt the same way that it used to, when he thought about it. Maybe finally knowing the truth was enough of a relief to placate the ache of once more discovering that he'd been nothing but a pawn to be played. He's replayed the memories of those days over and over in his head so many times- searching for the truth beneath the lie of every encounter with his 'servant', every smile, every game. Guy had been so good at it; he'd fooled them all for years. But with context, hadn't there been hints? Excuses of chores or protocol to avoid playing too much, a politely subtle cold shoulder, glowers in the background when no one was looking? He'd questioned for years now if any of it had been real. Now he knows.
The people he'd most loved and admired as a child had done nothing but lie to him. It's a staggering recognition, and he's grateful all of a sudden for both the tree at his back and the fact that Guy won't look at him.
He knows he can't stay silent forever; he's probably already been quiet for too long, after hearing something like that. But the words are caught in his throat, worried and wondering, and he regrets them even as they leave his lips.]
And then Van brought Luke back.
[Dammit. He doesn't want to know. He doesn't want to hear it. He doesn't want to drag out the story of how Luke managed to win over what he could never have.
But he does want it, too. He can't help but want it. To know, to understand the truth of it.
Why did I never have a chance?]