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Ignis, having been wrapped around Noctis’s finger since the day they met, is, as ever, the first to know something is wrong. He wakes in the dead of night, the usual refreshing coolness of Noct’s soul brushing against his own replaced by a feverish warmth. Next to him, Prompto - who generally settles once he’s fallen asleep - is once again shifting about restlessly, a confused pinch to his brow. He’s reminded the blond’s bond with Noct’s magic is only a few months old. Ignis glances over to the other bed, where Gladio continues to snore, a rumpled pillow and displaced blankets the only sign their princess had been there.
She hasn’t gone far, though. Ignis fumbles for his glasses as he rises, socked feet whispering against the floor as he walks across the room to the window. Noctis stands before the window, unblinking stare settled on the moon, simultaneously stiff as a board and limp as a noodle. She wavers briefly before forcing herself to stand upright once more with white knuckles. Noctis, her soul tethered to and wrapped around his own since she was 4 and he was 6, knows without looking he’s the one behind her.
Silence chokes the room, and just as Ignis goes to speak, Noctis beats him to it. “My father is dead,” she rasps.
Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t that, and the air is punched from his lungs. Noct had wandered off during the day, was distant and unfocused all night, and only now does it click.
“Noct-”
“Insomnia- I could feel it, through her. The destruction. The deaths. She’s been crying all day and,” Noctis sucks in a sharp breath. Blinks furiously, attempting to slide a royal mask onto her face. Ignis - finally freed from his stupor, knowing what’s to come - places a hand on her shoulder.
The mask falls and shatters like crystal. “ He’s dead ,” the pri- the queen crashes to her knees alongside it. Her advisor follows.
Any awkwardness and boundaries between the two of them had been broken and ground into a fine powder a long time ago. From years helping her in the shower when she was in too much pain to do it herself, cuddling close after nightmares that plagued them both. And now, in close quarters where privacy is a luxury they can rarely afford and the four of them take turns bathing in rivers, patching wounds, and sleep in a pile in a tent only just big enough for them. (So long as Gladio tucks his legs in.) Noctis clings to him, half in his lap, hands scrabbling for purchase as she tries to assure herself that he hasn’t joined the ranks of Insomnia’s dead. Ignis pulls her the rest of the way, wrapping his arms just as tight around her.
The thread connecting their souls, granting Ignis Noct’s power, is plucked by invisible fingers; testing the bond’s strength, checking him over. A routine Ignis is used to, repeated several times over the years. A way for Noct to both make sure her loved ones are okay and to remind them that she was there and - no matter the distance between their bodies - they were never alone. No matter how hard he’s tried, Ignis has never been able to accomplish the same. He simply can’t manipulate his soul the way Noct’s Aspect allows her to. Ignis hugs his princess closer to compensate.
Noctis was never loud , per se, but ever since the fall of Tenebrae she’s been quiet as a shadow. She lets out wheezes instead of sobs, interspersed with broken-off whines in the back of her throat as she tries to not wake the remaining members of her retinue.
“Nyx almost died,” Noct admits a few minutes later, her tears dried- for now. It won’t be long before the grief overflows again. “I think he used the Ring - I could feel the Lucii’s magic eating away at him. I- I’m not sure what I did, but… After years of feeling my dad’s life be devoured by the Ring, and being helpless again while the same thing happened to Nyx, I just thought to myself, no. No, you don’t get to take him too. And it stopped.”
Ignis pauses for a moment. Noctis’s soul magic was entirely unique in her line. No other king had an Aspect anywhere close to it, so the only teacher she had was herself. For the most part, the only soul she could shape to her will was her own. The only people she had any influence over were the ones she had a bond with. Until now all they could do with a bond - aside from the access to Lucian magic all royals gave their retinues - was use it to find one another, transferring mana, and mildly gauge emotions. Power greater than the combined kings of yore, power over life and death …
It’s no wonder Noctis wasn’t meant to have this magic. Ignis brushes the thought aside for now. He gently pushes Noct off his lap so he can stand, and he pulls her up after him.
“Come along now, Highness. I believe we’ve earned something sweet for breakfast this morning…”
The sun shyly peeks over the horizon, bathing the world in orange and banishing daemons back to the murk they spawned from. Innocent and uncaring of what happened in the night, sunlight splashes onto the floor and across their feet as Ignis and Noctis make their way - hand in hand, not yet willing to let go - to the room’s kitchenette.
Recipes whirl about in his mind- Noct is, undoubtedly, exhausted, from both not sleeping and (he suspects) sending energy to any other survivors she has a connection to. The kettle comes to life with a click and a box of green tea is placed next to it. Noctis settles at the table, head resting in her hand, watching her advisor as he works; pulling the waffle iron and ingredients from the Armiger, measuring them out, mixing everything together with an extra dash of cinnamon to make her smile. With a bit of persuasion in the form of a promise of fish for dinner, Ignis convinces Noct to man the waffle iron so he can make the spiced hot chocolate the Glaives got her addicted to. It’s become another challenge between them, though one with more success than the tarts. All he had to do to convince Crowe to divulge the spice blend (though not the amounts) was a round of drinks and a week’s worth of lunches.
Gladio and Prompto will wake soon, lured to the table by the sweet scent of chocolate, waffles, and fresh fruit. The news of Insomnia’s fall will crash over them and drag them out to sea to join the other half of their group. Selfishly, Ignis will enjoy the minutes of peace (however the flimsy illusion of it may be) they have left. Until then, he focuses on the crystalline chimes echoing along the thread between himself and Noct. If he closes his eyes, he can almost
see
it, a planet caught in the orbit of a star, and beyond him the other planets in their system, helplessly pulled in by Noct’s gravity. As long as the Queen’s light is shining, her Guard and Glaives will follow. Ignis will make sure of it.