"A disappointment or a burden?" Carlisle asks, realizing a fraction of a second later that he can answer that question for himself, as Glacius would strongly insist he is neither. "I- what I mean is that I know you would never consider me as such- or either. You have told me so before, though at times, I cannot see why."

And that would be more of what Glacius doesn't like to hear; he fumbles over another pile of words, trying to make up for it. "Not- not that you haven't explained your stance adequately, of course. It's- it is merely easier to see myself as a disappointment, knowing my bloodline, having grown up hearing their tales and trials, and their subsequent victories. I had always pictured myself among them, of course. Er, literally, in some cases. We had a lot of portraits of my family in the estate, and such images and, ah. Their implications left a permanent impression upon me."

He does not realize Glacius is more acquainted with said portraits than he could ever know, courtesy of the gods' interference in their dreams.