[He eases himself away, just enough that he can turn around without altogether leaving Noct's hold, and when he's facing Noct properly he gathers him into his arms, guiding him to tuck his head beneath Ignis's chin while he holds him tight.]
I couldn't possibly fault you for doing what you needed to, to assuage your feelings.
[ Noctis loves Ignis, of that there is no doubt -- he's spent many, many evenings tangled with him, hours learning more about the man that he's privileged to be with. He loves him, deeply, even if the words seem to be coming from far away.
Noctis lets himself be held, gathered into his arms as he presses his face into his neck, seeking him out instead of running, his own arms wrapped so tightly around him that he fears he might break Ignis if he squeezes any harder. ]
Drautos was Glauca, all along. Dad was -- [ murdered ] -- killed trying to protect Nyx and Luna.
[ It's why they survived. He grimaces, unable to keep a harsh, pained sound from his lips. Is he crying? No, no he can't. Cocooned here with Ignis, this feels... it feels better than the forest. It feels less like he's absolutely alone. ]
Shhh. One breath at a time, Noct. Go slowly, I've got you.
[Still holding him tight, Ignis finds himself suddenly reminded of a time when they were younger, when Noct would sometimes run to him like this after nightmares, and how after the marilith he wasn't able to run anymore but he would still seek out comfort like this if Ignis moved to him to offer it. He rocks back and forth, slow and easy, mostly silent but with the occasional soothing nonsense sound escaping his throat as he tries to console Noct as best he can.]
I know it hurts, darling.
[It hurts him, too. He doesn't try to hide it, or to rationalize the hurt away. Not this time. Not when the both of them have raw wounds reopened by this.]
It wasn't your fault. None of us knew — Clarus, the Marshal. No one suspected, none of us.
[ Could they have stopped it? Any of it? In this moment Noctis understands the horror of being wholly, entirely outclassed. They wouldn't have made a difference even if they were there -- and he wonders what his father felt, in those final moments. Was he afraid? Did he already know?
His grip tightens in Ignis' shirt, anger and frustration and grief welling. It should choke him, all of it, and he finally looks up, reminded that he's not the only one grieving, that this was Ignis' home, too. The people he loved, the life he's lived. ]
You must be hurting, too.
[ Noctis is not the only one suffering, he has to keep telling himself that. ]
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[He eases himself away, just enough that he can turn around without altogether leaving Noct's hold, and when he's facing Noct properly he gathers him into his arms, guiding him to tuck his head beneath Ignis's chin while he holds him tight.]
I couldn't possibly fault you for doing what you needed to, to assuage your feelings.
[He pauses, silent a moment.]
But I'm glad you came to me, instead of running.
no subject
Noctis lets himself be held, gathered into his arms as he presses his face into his neck, seeking him out instead of running, his own arms wrapped so tightly around him that he fears he might break Ignis if he squeezes any harder. ]
Drautos was Glauca, all along. Dad was -- [ murdered ] -- killed trying to protect Nyx and Luna.
[ It's why they survived. He grimaces, unable to keep a harsh, pained sound from his lips. Is he crying? No, no he can't. Cocooned here with Ignis, this feels... it feels better than the forest. It feels less like he's absolutely alone. ]
I told him he was in Drautos' hands. I said --
no subject
[Still holding him tight, Ignis finds himself suddenly reminded of a time when they were younger, when Noct would sometimes run to him like this after nightmares, and how after the marilith he wasn't able to run anymore but he would still seek out comfort like this if Ignis moved to him to offer it. He rocks back and forth, slow and easy, mostly silent but with the occasional soothing nonsense sound escaping his throat as he tries to console Noct as best he can.]
I know it hurts, darling.
[It hurts him, too. He doesn't try to hide it, or to rationalize the hurt away. Not this time. Not when the both of them have raw wounds reopened by this.]
It wasn't your fault. None of us knew — Clarus, the Marshal. No one suspected, none of us.
no subject
His grip tightens in Ignis' shirt, anger and frustration and grief welling. It should choke him, all of it, and he finally looks up, reminded that he's not the only one grieving, that this was Ignis' home, too. The people he loved, the life he's lived. ]
You must be hurting, too.
[ Noctis is not the only one suffering, he has to keep telling himself that. ]