[Noctis has a general idea of what his goals were, but as for what he wanted? The two were related, but in some ways very different. He scoffs at the young prince, dripping into facetiousness, eyes scanning his expression, finding only indignant signs there.]

Please, Noctis. Don't presume to know exactly what it was that I wanted.

[(To rest. To die. Revenge was just a vehicle, satisfying and potent, on the way to this goal. The biggest middle finger to the gods and the Prophecy he could manage, while adhering to it all the same. He wonders, really, if Noctis would ever understand this.

He'll give no indication of it today.)]

You, who can't probably think straight as it is, given how blinded you must be with anger in this very moment. I don't expect for you to see the bigger picture.

[The real translation of that: The infinitely more personal picture.]