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Noctis could not sleep.
The soft rise and fall of Prompto's chest was enough to encourage a sigh from the raven-haired boy ; how was it that he was able to succumb to rest so easily? The gentle snores that filtered through the dull room never once stopped, nor did the quiet yet tedious ticking of the clock hung on the wall just before him. Squinting for only a second, he made out the time - 1:30am. He had never really been up this late before. Even in the past when he had admittedly had difficulty mastering a perfect nighttime routine, he was often out by 11pm, and would rouse from his deep slumbers at around 2pm the following day, just as he always had. Whilst that may have changed with the recent course of his journey, Noctis could practically lay down his head and nap anywhere, at any time, regardless of his environment.
Yet tonight was different. Tonight, the icy breeze that pushed beyond the thin Altissian curtains caused a frown to settle on his features, as he propped himself upright and curled the blanket further around his aching shoulders, a shaky huff pushing past his lips. The entire city was cold. There was no idle chatter beyond his room, and the lights had all been turned off ; it almost felt intimidating, that eerie silence that had followed the prior events and covenant signing. The grief that hung so boldly in the air was near suffocating, gripping at everything it could with an unimaginable relent.
Luna. It was hard to even think of her name, without replaying the meer seconds he saw of her before he awoke back in this chamber. Those golden locks of hair stained with a red, thick blood that had pooled around her, contaminating her pure, ivory skin, and latching onto her white ceremonial garments. When he woke back up, and when he was informed of all that had happened, he couldn’t even begin to describe the sickness that plagued him ; a nausea that hadn’t fully left, and didn’t give any signs of relenting any time soon. To that end, Noctis cursed the fragility of his stamina. Even if the crushing force of Leviathan was enough to overpower even the strongest of forces, he was unable to comprehend how he could let the world lose one of the only good things it had ever had, or so he was convinced. Lunafreya was the light they so desired, and now she was gone.
Now, it was Noctis’ responsibility.
He couldn’t stop now. He knew that. He knew that their sacrifices could not be made in vain.
That momentary acknowledgement of the long road ahead left a bitter taste in his mouth ; he sighed, rubbing his temples for a moment, before sliding his feet off the bed and forcing his tired body to stand upright. Glancing across to his bestfriend, he checked cautiously to ensure that he hadn’t been roused by his antics - yet the telltale snore was enough to cease those worries, and allowed Noctis to confidently tip-toe towards the door and carefully open it, before slipping his thin, blanket-covered body through the small gap.
The walk from his door along the corridor to the room opposing his was, well, excruciatingly long. It was as though he was shackled to the ground, the weight of each step taking a toll on his seemingly low endurance - was that the exhaustion, or rather the weight of his guilt resting upon his back? With each step he took, the soft, tediously dull ache discomforted him, though the promise of his results seemed enough to spur on his intention. Approaching the door, the raven-haired boy placed a gentle hand on the door knob, hesitating for just a moment. He leant his forehead against the door and a shaky exhale was all that he could muster out in response. “Ignis?” The boy mumbled, his voice barely piercing the silence - yet, he supposed the ominous quiet of this particular night gave him the opportunity to be so silent in return.
There was no reply for a few seconds. It was enough to encourage Noctis to lose his grip on the door knob and half-heartedly turn around, glancing back at the corridor he had oh-so-struggled to conquer at this unspoken hour, yet was rewarded when he heard the quiet rustle of fabric, and an earnest “come in, Noct”. Even just the voice of his advisor was enough to dull his senses, and for just a moment, Noctis forgot about the pain he was feeling, and felt only warmth. And so, with a newfound confidence, the boy pushed the door open and gently closed it in return, gazing upon the idle figure who awaited him.
Ignis sat in a comfortable silence, his back propped up against the wooden headboard of his bed - besides him rested his glasses, a comb, and half-empty glass of water, though he knew that his advisor would argue that it was “half-full” and how he should “perceive things more optimistically” in times of doubt. The bloodied bandage that covered Ignis’ right eye was enough to bring back the haunting guilt Noctis was plagued with, as his gaze drifted down to the harsh scars running down his arms, his eye, the short yet deep scar that decorated the bridge of his nose ; it was enough to stir such guilt that the prince felt as though he was smaller than an ant in comparison, as though sinking to his knees and repenting would never repair such damage. And it wouldn’t, he knew that. The tense silence that befell them wasn’t something either of them knew exactly how to shatter, yet after a few moments of observation, Noctis took a few steps forwards and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Can you not sleep?” Ignis asked, and Noctis simply glanced down at the callouses marking the pads of his fingers. “I could ask you the same thing ” He simply remarked, unable to shift his gaze. Another few seconds of silence surpassed them. Honestly, after an airy exhale, Noctis even began to find his own cowardice near amusing. What sort of king could not even face his own consequences? Surely enough his father had stood in a similar position of sacrifice, and felt this same, gnawing guilt, and surely enough his father would’ve handled it like true royalty ; and yet, then there was the chosen king, who could not even muster the confidence enough to look upwards and meet the gaze of his advisor without breaking apart.
He should have worn the ring. The ring entrusted to him by none other than Lunafreya that, for such a small article, rested so heavily in the palm of his hand that if he could, if he dared to, he would throw into the depths of the great Leviathans oceans and pray to the Astrals above that it never be seen again. He could practically hear the chorus of disapproval from his friends for merely thinking such a thing - such cowardice was shameful. “Ignis, why—“ he paused, feeling the lump in his throat stop him from even pursuing his question.
“—Why.. how could you be so reckless?” When the question was proposed, Noctis could have sworn he heard the other swallow thickly, as though contemplating exactly why he took the route he did. The boy could not bring himself to look up from his hands, tracing the faint scars with his sharpened glare, that were hardly illuminated by the rays of moonlight pouring in through the open curtains. “…Has that kept you conscious?” Ignis spoke, heavily, yet his voice seemed so quiet, and so tired, not entirely dissimilar to his own.
Had it? Noctis had been forced to consider a grand variety of things as of late. The next course of action, how to respond to the late oracles passing, the prophecy, Ardyn's (not-entirely-shocking) betrayal, the ring ; but if he was to choose one thing that had majorly occupied his recent thoughts, it would be Ignis. The answer would always, regardless of context, be Ignis. As of now, he had spent hours mulling over answers, the what-ifs and the questions he could never seem to satisfy with a single answer - at least, no answer seemed to wipe away the guilt tugging at his heart, and it certainly hadn’t faded from the moment he locked eyes on him just seconds ago. If he had worn the ring, this would have never happened. If he had stayed conscious after the trial of Leviathan, Ignis would not be left in such a sorry state. If he had just been stronger, maybe Ignis would still be able to see the world in the same clarity that he had always preferred to.
“Doesn’t matter,” the prince spoke, grimacing slightly. He was exhausted, but that was far, far beyond the point. “Tell me, Ignis—” he opted for, eventually, as painful as it was, managing to glance up at his bedridden ally, before finally finishing his statement, “Tell me why you did it. Tell me that you hate me for it. That I’m weak. That I ruined your life, your chances, your shot at the career you’ve worked for ever since the king— ever since my father tasked you with my service. Whatever it is, tell me.” Noctis spoke with such convincing prowess that even Ignis was left stunned, his mouth temporarily agape as he thought up of a reply that could place an end to such thoughts.
Yet there was none. Oh, how the unspoken “I love you” died on his tongue before he could even say anything.
Noctis took that silence and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t give me the same crap about your responsibility. It isn’t. If I’m really the chosen king, then—.. then why can’t I save the people I love?” As though the Astrals looked down and mocked him, the vulnerable question rendered him near useless, as he broke his gaze away from Ignis and back down to his hands that were now balled tightly into fists.
“I’m going to continue this journey. I have to. You don’t have to—”
“No!” Ignis interjected, his composure slipping for just a second, before he swallowed thickly once more and blankly stared down. Even if he couldn’t see anything, he knew that looking anywhere but down would leave him open - it would leave him vulnerable, and now wasn’t the time to be so. “Noct, no matter what is to face us, I am, and always will be, striding the same steps as you.”
Noctis glanced upwards, shocked for a few fleeting seconds. There was something so raw, and so genuine in the manner that Ignis spoke that hit a chord so deeply within him. It was as though the answers were always riddled within Ignis, and all he ever had to do was solve them. “My vision is due to correct itself,” Ignis began, and yet was cut off once more, as Noctis inhaled, incredulously - “I know you’re lying. It’s my fault.”
Tracing the bed with his hands solemnly, Ignis eventually paused his movement, before patting the space next to him as so to invite Noctis to move besides him. Just as when they were kids, the advisor intended on drawing an arm around his superior, and pulling him in close enough so that the raven-haired boy would rest his head against his shoulder, and he could gently run his fingers through the darker locks of hair. That level of physical touch, no matter what they had endured together, had never been foreign. Ignis prayed to the Astrals above that it would not change now, even if he truly would no longer be able to lay eyes upon the star who would one day purge the scourge ; though putting it so literally never seemed to bring a certain sadness to the older man’s heart.
There was only a split second of hesitation shown by the Prince. Noctis wondered, did he truly deserve such kindness? Such kindness after rendering his closest ally blind? Though perhaps, that warm smile that Ignis offered, as though he could sense the conflict residing deep within Noctis’ heart, was enough to soften the turmoil resting behind calm waters, and convinced him enough to shuffle upwards and take a seat next to Ignis. “I do not hate you.” Ignis started, carefully stretching out his arm and allowing Noctis to fit underneath, rather perfectly. “Do not presume I did so out of an obligation. Rather, wearing that ring, Noctis— I did so because I would have sacrificed everything for you to prevail.”
“Ignis, please,” Noctis chose to plead, resting his head against his advisor's chest. The heartbeat that raged against his rib cage was enough to fuel on his next response. “Stop talking about your life as if it’s expendable.” He muttered, a scowl sitting comfortably on his features. “You know I hate it when you do that.”
The shattering vulnerability in Noctis’ tone shook Ignis to the core. Deep down, the advisor knew very well that he would’ve gladly laid down the entirety of his life if it meant Noctis would have lived out a few more years, perhaps even decades. Even if it was all wishful thinking, there could really be no question of it ; he would easily lay down his life, if only to mean Noctis would live that little bit longer. Granted, he would much prefer to live out the remainder of his days besides him, but should there ever be a life or death scenario, he would lay down his life. There would be no hesitation on his behalf.
And really, Ignis had known that ever since he was a kid, and was always the one to stick to his truths.
Letting his head lay against Noctis’, Ignis sighed, meekly. “My apologies.” He murmured, his voice ever so gentle, barely piercing the silence. “You are ever beyond a duty, Noct. Chosen king or not, come the end of the day, you are a human. Perhaps many mistake such a title for godlike senses, but a true king comes to accept that sometimes… there must be sacrifice. I came to terms with that near eons ago.” He offered, speaking with such precision that left Noctis hanging onto each of his words. Ever so gently, Ignis’ scarred hands drew circles into the prince's biceps — “I shall forever stand by your side, no question of it. There is no blame, and certainly no fault. Should the opportunity arise again… yes, I would believe that I would bear that pain a thousand times over.”
To that, Noctis exhaled, curling further into the arms of his most beloved. It had a ring to it - ‘beloved’. “That didn’t answer my question.” The raven-haired boy mumbled, closing his eyes momentarily, as though claiming his respite.
“Then perhaps this ought to clear that confusion for you.” He spoke, heavily, leaning downwards and earnestly pressing a kiss to Noctis’ forehead. “The night I wore that ring, I did so because I knew I could not live in a world without you.”
“And now, you live in a world of darkness.”
“Well, not entirely. A world without you would be far darker indeed. I would forsake any of my senses should it mean that you continue to presume by my side.”
Noctis, for the first time this evening, smiled, humming lightly in response. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you’ll never have to do that.”
“Indeed. It is a fantastic thing, my firefly.”