[ He doesn't wrap his arms around Inigo right away, suddenly feeling overwhelmed all on his own.
It wasn't Inigo's eyes, the way he looked at Roland like he was saving him from the dark.
It wasn't the way he cried, or the tears that now wet his shirt.
It wasn't even the flurry of emotion that overtake Inigo the moment Roland tells him that his mother wouldn't have wanted to see her only son be so down on himself, convinced that a bully's words were the truth.
No, it was because Inigo told him - Thank you for being my father - that breaks Roland's guard completely and utterly. His eyes grow wide, his mouth opens, slightly agape. The shock is good, it feels good, but he feels unworthy of it. Inigo's gratitude was too pure for him, too much for his heart to bear.
Though moments ago he was asking Inigo to fight his inner saboteur, here was Roland allowing his insecurities to suddenly overtake him in a maelstrom of doubt. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to be thanked for being a father. No one's ever told him that before. Not even Will, who he knows he's already failed. He's failed his son, allowed him to die. Even his determination had its limits, and there are nights when he wonders what has become of Will, his home, his country. The imprint of his shame. The source of his sorrow.
Roland eventually moves his arms around Inigo as he cries into his shoulder, and for the first time in a long time, outside of the twisted landscape of his own mind, the president closes his eyes and allows a silent tear - or two - to roll down his face.
1/2
It wasn't Inigo's eyes, the way he looked at Roland like he was saving him from the dark.
It wasn't the way he cried, or the tears that now wet his shirt.
It wasn't even the flurry of emotion that overtake Inigo the moment Roland tells him that his mother wouldn't have wanted to see her only son be so down on himself, convinced that a bully's words were the truth.
No, it was because Inigo told him - Thank you for being my father - that breaks Roland's guard completely and utterly. His eyes grow wide, his mouth opens, slightly agape. The shock is good, it feels good, but he feels unworthy of it. Inigo's gratitude was too pure for him, too much for his heart to bear.
Though moments ago he was asking Inigo to fight his inner saboteur, here was Roland allowing his insecurities to suddenly overtake him in a maelstrom of doubt. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to be thanked for being a father. No one's ever told him that before. Not even Will, who he knows he's already failed. He's failed his son, allowed him to die. Even his determination had its limits, and there are nights when he wonders what has become of Will, his home, his country. The imprint of his shame. The source of his sorrow.
Roland eventually moves his arms around Inigo as he cries into his shoulder, and for the first time in a long time, outside of the twisted landscape of his own mind, the president closes his eyes and allows a silent tear - or two - to roll down his face.
Thank you for being my father.
But I don't deserve your gratitude. ]