[ He bites back the argument that his existence has always been a heavy burden. On himself, on those around him. Not just his brother, but the exasperated expressions of his friends on the many many times he’d worn their patience thin. The people he’d interacted with back at the Academy, people in the village… although those had all usually been for good reason. By his own estimation, there had never been much that could be considered redeemable about him. Through his own actions, true enough, but that had been easier than dealing with all their expectations on top of the crushing weight of his family’s.

He stares down at his dirty hands when Claude backs up Hilda’s words, feeling that familiar touch against his cheek, the squeeze around his hand. But he still doesn’t look up at them. Can’t. Though he does give a quiet, humorless laugh at Claude’s words, shaking his head. ]

Do you know, I think that might be the first time anyone’s ever said that to me? It’s always been the other way around. I’m the inconvenient attachment that comes with the Crest they all valued so much. The only worthwhile thing about me has always been my Crest.