[ Noctis is just realising it now, on his own. In the wake of so much loss he had forgotten that the people closest to him endure loss of their own, as well. And this? This is his way of reaching out, of trying, in his own clumsy way, to tell them that he's here and that maybe the burden of grief can be shared together, with neither taking the forefront.
It's hard, but Noctis is trying. Ignis must be grieving, too -- he must be sad, too. And Noctis has to help, however he can. ]
Okay.
[ Noctis is climbing up minutes later, looking around for him. ]
[It's not as though it's a very big roof, after all, but in the shadows it can be hard to navigate and Ignis has a tendency of naturally gravitating to places of concealment anyway, the better to watch and observe without being noticed. But he's over by where he'd been playing the violin back when the town had split them all up, sitting and already watching the skies overhead.]
But Noctis is deft and quick and more graceful that people ever give him credit for, and before long he's right there in the shadows with him, sitting beside him and offering him a spam sandwich. ]
Checking on me, cooking for me...have we perhaps switched roles, then, Noct? Are you my retainer tonight?
[He's openly teasing, and it shows in the lightness and warmth of his remark, as he takes the sandwich from Noctis and draws him a little closer with an arm around his shoulders.]
[ That comment gets Noctis to crack a smile, the first one he's had in hours, and he instinctively comes to tuck himself close to him. Noctis isn't usually the most tactile person, but right now he doesn't care. He's seeking comfort, and wrapping an arm around Ignis' waist.
Yeah, it's totally normal. ]
I could be. Or a trusted, loyal confidant.
[ ...Or, more accurately, something way, way more than that. ]
You already are all of those things, retainer or not.
[For as far as Ignis allows anyone to be his confidant, at least. Sometimes that's not far at all, but usually when it comes to matters of raw emotion, Noct stands the best chance at getting them out of him — unless, of course, they concern Noct in the first place.]
I feel...strange, mourning them. As though people other than me have far more right to that sadness than I do.
[ Noctis is tangentially aware that he is that to Ignis -- the man tends to keep plenty of things to himself unless Noctis pries, and even in some aspects he's not all that successful.
Still, today seems to be one of those days that he is, so he will take it. He's quiet for a moment, considering. ]
I suppose because my role has always been one of supporter, not of supported. Taking time to mourn, when it feels as though I ought to be consoling others...seems selfish, somehow.
[He tugs Noct a little closer, and the hold he has on him changes slightly, shifting in nature from something steady and protective to something that almost feels a bit like clinging.]
Even something like this. You came up because you're worried about me, when it feels as though I'm the one who should be taking care of you.
Oh, is that how he really feels? Noctis is absorbing that comment -- funny how a little insight makes you understand another better. He senses the change in the hold and instead of pulling away, simply leans into it.
Let him, then. He wants Ignis to be able to do this for his own sake. How often had Noctis been wrapped up in his own shit and neglected Ignis? He reddens, shaking his head. ]
I don't need taking care of.
[ He tells him almost grumpily, but the kindness in his eyes softens his words. This has to be Ignis' time, not his, and this man has never been just his caretaker. ]
You've done so much for us. So just... be less like the usual you tonight.
[ Because Noctis is here for him, his grip around his waist protective, warm. ]
Be less like me. I wonder who I should be instead, then? I never was very good at impressions.
[He's teasing, of course, and when Noct leans into him, he leans right back, bringing his head to rest lightly atop Noct's as they sit together, arm in arm.]
I...
[He goes silent, staring up at the stars, and when he speaks again his voice isn't just softer; it's weaker, too.]
Sometimes it's almost...it doesn't feel as though they're really gone, does it? You know they are, but it still feels as if...
[He sucks in a shaky breath.]
As if when we go downstairs, he'll be there. As if when I go to the garden next, he'll be there. As if...when we go home...they'll all still be there.
[ There. Better. Noctis is listening to him when Ignis pours out his heart, when they sit together and the tease eases away to something even more genuine and heartbreaking. This is the first time in a long while, too, that Ignis is something other than placid and composed. The weakness in his voice reflects his humanity, the sadness that plagues him like a ghost, haunting them all with hope, however misplaced, that they'll go back down and Dex will be there, playing with Leliel. Or John and Dave would come around maybe and Ignis will smile because Ignis found friends of his own, too.
He swallows the lump in his throat. It's hard for Ignis, he supposes, to have friends too, outside of them. So much of his waking hours have been devoted to the Crown, to Noctis -- he must not have all that much of a social life for himself. This town changed that. This town slowed them down, showed them the friends they could have, the life they could lead. The bonds they could make, too, outside of themselves.
And now two of Ignis' friends are gone. He's quiet, knowing that Ignis needs to get this out, needs to tell someone, needs to feel his feelings. ]
Yeah.
[ He says softly. ] You have more than enough right to mourn, Iggy. They're your friends.
[It's the word of a friend, not permission from his king, and yet there's still something oddly liberating about Noct's words. There's a part of him that wants to protest, even so, but he silences it as gently as he can and lays it carefully to rest, digging down deep inside himself after the feelings he's been bottling up for so long, and seeking to let his current grief act as a crowbar to help pry those older ones free.]
It doesn't feel as though Insomnia is really gone, either.
[He blinks again and again, still with his face upturned, still carefully watching the night sky even when his vision goes a little blurry.]
It feels as though it should still be there. Like we've only just...gone away for a while, but it's waiting for us to come back to. Like Uncle is still there. Clarus. Your father.
[And someday Noct will go back there, too. He'll climb the throne, and take up his father's sword, and die for all of them.]
I don't want to —
[He stops short, choking on the word, shaking his head like that might stand some chance of dislodging it from his throat.]
— to see Prompto go through what's waiting for him back there. I don't want to lose my eyes. I don't want to lose —
[You.]
...everything.
[He breathes in again, erratic and thin.]
Things like this happen, and it makes me realize how powerless I am to fix any of them.
[ The nature of grief is such that it's all-encompassing. When one grieves for a friend, it's inevitable that everything else buried deep inside comes to the surface as well. Noctis is silent in the face of Ignis' pain, commiserating, understanding even if he doesn't get the full picture, unaware of his own fate.
He knows how the loss of Insomnia tears at all of them. Lucis, fallen -- Regis was like a surrogate father to Ignis, too, and they've all lost loved ones when the kingdom crumbled. And so he watches him, watches that sharp, angular profile as Ignis tilts his head to the lightless sky with only stars. He sees tears pooling in the vivid green of his eyes even if Ignis probably wants to pretend otherwise, and Noctis reaches for his hand with his free one, finds it, threads his fingers with his.
He feels his own eyes burning, prickling behind eyelids as he thinks of them all, wonders if they would be waiting for them once again, like nothing's happened. His heart is heavy, and he thinks of the truths he'd laid at Dex's feet a lifetime ago, having allowed himself to quietly grieve as he wept for all the lost lives, the pain and heartbreak.
And then there's Ignis.
I don't want to lose my eyes.
The thought of that, of Ignis losing sight and Prompto getting hurt pierces deeper than anything ever has. Ignis would lose his eyes for Noctis' sake, and Noctis squeezes, determined. Ignis needs him now, he can't just break down, he can't. Ignis is afraid, and Noctis will be brave for him. ]
I won't let that happen to you.
[ He says firmly, letting go of his hand only to reach out to grasp his chin, making Ignis look at him. ]
I won't let you lose your eyes, or anything else. I won't let Prompto get hurt. No more.
[Just like that, Noct reaches for his chin, and his gaze is tipped away from the stars overhead, back down to earth where Noct's night-sky eyes are waiting for him. He should memorize how Noct's eyes look, he thinks, not for the first time and not for the last. He should remember them, because there might come a day when he'll never see them again, and Noct's eyes are one of the things that he knows it will hurt worst to lose.
But it's as he's looking at him, as he's hearing Noct's promises and knowing deep down that they're ones his prince, his king won't be able to keep, he remembers the conversation he'd had with Prompto early on, about the future and about choices and about secrets.
Ignis knows that there are some secrets that need to be kept, for Noct's own good, even knowing full well how badly that stings him. Even knowing full well how bitterly he'd taken it, when his father and Cor had done the same thing.
Ignis knows that he can't tell Noctis what's going to happen to him, if he complies with the will of the Astrals.]
Noct...
[Noctis told him not to be Ignis tonight.]
I'm going to lose more than my eyes. And I don't know if even you can prevent it.
[ How does Ignis know that? Is Ignis going to die? There's a cold fist that clenches over his heart, squeezing the breath out of him. Ignis looks so... sad, so awful and heartbroken and younger than he's ever seen him. Sometimes Noctis forgets that Ignis is only two years older than he is, that maybe Ignis also doesn't have much more knowledge of the world than Noctis does. ]
Are you going to --
[ Like Luna? Like the people who have gone too quickly? He can't finish that sentence because every part of him fiercely rejects that idea. He can't imagine it, he doesn't want to. This is Ignis, he's known him all his life and he's one of the strongest people he's ever known. That there is something that Noctis can't prevent and hearing him say it makes bitterness rise in his mouth.
No, for his sake, he will -- ]
You don't know that. You can't know that -- future's not set in stone. Whatever you dreamed or whatever people told you -- no.
[The worst part is, he knows full well what the future holds for Noctis. Not the particulars; no, he doesn't know that. He doesn't have the how or the when, and only has scraps of the where. But his vision couldn't have been clearer when it comes to what will be expected of Noct, and what's bitterest of all is the recognition that the only person who might stand a chance of stopping it truly is Noct himself, and he wouldn't be Noctis at all if he did.]
But I know you.
[Better than anyone, he knows Noct. Better than anyone else he knows, better than anyone else in the world who knows Noct too.
He tugs away from Noct's hand, looking up at the sky again, and this time makes himself deliberately search out the constellations they'd once chosen for themselves up there. The anak, the archer. The violinist. The sleeping pianist.
You're never too heavy for me to carry you, he'd assured him once. But in the future that's coming, he won't be able to. Not when it's Noct shouldering the burden of the whole world instead.
He draws a shaky breath.]
And I know that when you're the one asked to die, for the sake of the world...that's a future that may as well be set in stone. Because I know you. I know you won't refuse.
[ Noctis doesn't get it, not for a long, long moment. He's baffled, lost and struggling to make sense of what he's saying, how he's saying it as he pulls away from him and looks up and all Noctis can do is stare at that handsome profile, rendered near unreachable in his grief.
He watches him look at the stars like he can glean comfort from them -- and maybe he does, like Noctis. Maybe he looks up at them too and thinks the same things Noctis does, maybe they give him the same consolation that there's something much bigger beyond just this place. Ignis is grieving for more than just John, Dave, Dex, Insomnia, and Noctis can only listen to him pour out his pain, be with him as he peels those layers away.
Ignis is saying things, things like Noctis dying for the sake of the world or something, that he won't say no and he doesn't say 'if', like he knows it's coming and Noctis feels something cold and dreadful curl in the pit of his stomach, something like dismay and heartache and fear and sadness too deep to comprehend, just barely--
-- but surely he doesn't mean what Noctis thinks he means. ]
Iggy... what are you saying?
[ Surely, he must be mistaken. That's an 'if, right? ]
[All of a sudden, then, just having his arm around Noctis somehow isn't enough. All of a sudden it's not enough to just be side by side. All of a sudden it's not enough to feel the familiar warmth and presence of his oldest friend at his side, when his arms are aching from how hollow they feel, and the agony of the secrets he's carrying is crushing the words he wants to say before they can ever come close to leaving his mouth.
So he turns, pivots really, and when his arms come around Noct it's really not so different from all the nights when they've stayed together and he's held him like he's trying to protect him from anything that might seek to take him way, one hand cradling the back of his head and the other wrapped tight around his back.
It's easier when he doesn't have to look at him. It's worse, that he's not looking at him.]
Lunafreya's dog. The white one, Umbra's partner. The Astrals...sent me a vision, through her, of what's to be expected of the Chosen King.
[Chosen. Yes, he's been chosen, all right — chosen like a lamb for the slaughter, a blameless bleating sacrifice.]
I don't know if you remember. The furniture, when it accused me — it condemned me for blasphemy. And...it wasn't wrong.
[He ducks his head, burying his face in Noct's shoulder, and holds on all the tighter.]
There's not a day that goes by that I don't think of how I won't let them have you.
[ Noctis is reeling from his relevation, stunned by what he's hearing -- so Ignis has somehow known this all along, and Pryna had told him. He finds himself stunned and swept up in Ignis' arms, held close like he's in danger of slipping from him at any moment, but he isn't registering it, not quite. Or perhaps just a little. He's overwhelmed by what Ignis tells him as his hands numbly come to rest over his back, unable to think.
He's going to die. Ignis had seen it, and he had carried that secret for so long. Noctis is going to die somehow, way sooner than he thought and wanted, because underneath the Chosen King is only a young man with his life ahead of him, or what's left of it, and even that will be asked of him, and he doesn't know what to think.
He's going to die.
So that's what Chosen means, why his father would sacrifice so much to send him away in case he got caught in the crossfire. Noctis isn't entirely sure of the details, and he's not sure he's looking for it right now because the shock of it leaves him speechless. But oh, he does want to live, to make the world better, to be with his friends, to hold Ignis like this...
His grip tightens around him and Noctis buries his head in his shoulder now, desperate and searching for comfort, hoping that he's wrong. ]
Ignis...
[ He manages, rattled as he looks up at him, haunted and numb, vulnerable and lost. He's going to die, but he's only twenty. And Ignis, oh, bearing the impossible weight of wanting to save him, and for a moment Noctis wishes he would even if he knows what his final answer will one day be. But Six, he's barely lived and now he's going to die. ] Yeah, I remember. I -- don't...
[And there's savagery in his tone, then, finally jarred loose after keeping it under wraps all this time — the burden he's been condemned to shoulder alone. It's coming loose at last, all of his anger and his bitterness at the unfairness of it all, the raw anguish and the reluctance and the defiance, and threaded through it all is the deep heartfelt possessiveness he's kept since they were just children, since Noct's father who was almost his father, too, said please take care of my son.]
— They can't have you.
[You're mine! is something he's been heard to say on the battlefield, when he sights a target and marks it for certain death. He doesn't say it now, but if he did the phrase would be softer, more velvet, yet promising precisely as much retribution on anything that might dare to challenge it.]
I don't care what I have to do...what it demands of me. But I won't let them take you away from me.
[He's pretty sure he meant to stop that sentence with take you away, but then those last two words just sort of...slipped out, and changed everything.]
[ Even Noctis is surprised by the vehemence and savagery in his words, as if he could move destiny by force of will alone. Noctis finds that he wants him to -- guiltily, painfully, he wants to believe it. But Pryna has always been prescient, a messenger of the gods, and they both know better than anyone else that it will come to pass, and only Noctis will still Ignis. One day, when it comes, Noctis doesn't know if he'll be ready.
He's not ready for it now, the shock of it a jarring, painful thing that he's not sure he would've wanted to know. But Ignis, oh, Ignis, he sounds wounded, angry, and Noctis feels something strange twist and wind and flutter when he hears the last of it. I won't let them take you away from me. From him, like Noctis has always belonged to him in some way or another, and isn't it true? Ignis belongs to Noctis from the first day they'd met. They'd grown up together, played together, learned and fought and grieved, and the echoes of possessiveness are not new.
Ignis is his advisor, his cook, his longest friend -- when he had nobody, he had Ignis.
He looks up at him now, words caught in his throat at the fervor of promise, and he doesn't know what to say aside from a soft, quiet -- ]
I don't want to die.
[ He will face it one day, walk tall towards his destiny and leave his friends behind. One day, he'll bring back the dawn for everyone, and especially for those he loves, but today he's a twenty-year old faced with a terrible, awful truth. A last, strained burst of optimism because all of this is heavy, too heavy.
But he has to try anyway, he has to be strong because Ignis is going to unravel. He grasps the back of his neck, fingers curling tight. ]
But hey, look at me -- [ He's pressing his forehead to his and steals Ignis' gaze from the stars above; there is little comfort to be found in them tonight. Noctis says something he hopes to one day fully believe. ] 'm not going anywhere, so don't do anything stupid, okay? You're the smartest one outta all of us.
[For most, the phrase your word is my command is humorous at best, a cliche at worst. But right now, in this moment, Noct's word truly might as well be a command, because with five words Ignis rekindles his own personal vow against the Astrals, his mission to do whatever it takes to preserve the young man in his arms —
Because Noct doesn't want to die, and that's enough.
Noct doesn't want to die, and therefore he won't.
They're pressed together, forehead to forehead, Noct's hand curling at the back of his neck, and his glasses are getting jammed just a little from it but he doesn't care, because to adjust them would mean letting go and he's not going to do that, not ever.]
Noct...
[He closes his eyes, fingers tightening where he's holding him.]
Just once, I wish you would show as much care for yourself as I feel for you.
[But then he falls quiet, and what flits across his lips is a smile, probably, regardless of how much it's trembling.]
But...I suppose you wouldn't be my Noct if you ever did, would you.
[ Noctis says softly, shifting so that at least his glasses aren't weirdly sandwiched up. Up close, Noctis can see just how gorgeous his eyes are, what a vivid, striking shade of green, so very emotive, vulnerable and open. He can see it, the tremor in his smile because even now Ignis is trying to be brave for him too, despite the weight on his shoulders and his grief. Noctis doesn't walk alone -- there's Prompto, Gladio, and then there's Ignis, who is hurting and struggling and Noctis isn't quite sure how to make things better.
But then it occurs to him, just what Ignis said -- and Noctis blinks, feeling a little strange flutter -- so much like what he's been feeling ever since... well, the first time the stars came out. ]
Your Noct, huh?
[ He's never said that before and Noctis has never pushed, and with the weight of new knowledge on him he can't help but be chagrined. He doesn't know how to deal with it, with any of it, but all he knows is that this moment is infinitely comforting, to have Ignis by his side means he's not alone. Does Prompto know, he wonders? Does he know Noctis is going to die? It would make him sad. ]
[On its face, it's a touch of humor in an otherwise wry and awful situation, but deep down he's gauging for Noct's reaction, fighting off the urge to withdraw just a little from the uncertainty of how that's going to come across. He'd not meant much by it; it'd just been an offhand remark, born of Noct's permission to be someone who doesn't care so much about each and every precise word right now. But this is why he likes precision — because it avoids mistakes, and awkwardness, at least in theory.]
You wouldn't be you if you ever put yourself before others, either.
[ Noctis admits after a moment. My Noct, like My Ignis, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world to say. He's so close, so close now to him and it's difficult not to realise what this could possibly be, what he wants to happen -- even if it'll be ill-advised and ill-thought out and probably entirely unplanned. ] I guess I really am your Noct.
[ Oldest, longest companion -- Ignis is loved, and deeply, even if Noctis is so often such a brat about everything that it's a marvel Ignis is still sticking with him. He's tentative, eyes lidding briefly. ] Kinda makes it fairer.
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no subject
It's hard, but Noctis is trying. Ignis must be grieving, too -- he must be sad, too. And Noctis has to help, however he can. ]
Okay.
[ Noctis is climbing up minutes later, looking around for him. ]
Iggy.
no subject
[It's not as though it's a very big roof, after all, but in the shadows it can be hard to navigate and Ignis has a tendency of naturally gravitating to places of concealment anyway, the better to watch and observe without being noticed. But he's over by where he'd been playing the violin back when the town had split them all up, sitting and already watching the skies overhead.]
Mind your step.
no subject
But Noctis is deft and quick and more graceful that people ever give him credit for, and before long he's right there in the shadows with him, sitting beside him and offering him a spam sandwich. ]
Here. I made it. Figured you haven't eaten yet.
no subject
Checking on me, cooking for me...have we perhaps switched roles, then, Noct? Are you my retainer tonight?
[He's openly teasing, and it shows in the lightness and warmth of his remark, as he takes the sandwich from Noctis and draws him a little closer with an arm around his shoulders.]
no subject
Yeah, it's totally normal. ]
I could be. Or a trusted, loyal confidant.
[ ...Or, more accurately, something way, way more than that. ]
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[For as far as Ignis allows anyone to be his confidant, at least. Sometimes that's not far at all, but usually when it comes to matters of raw emotion, Noct stands the best chance at getting them out of him — unless, of course, they concern Noct in the first place.]
I feel...strange, mourning them. As though people other than me have far more right to that sadness than I do.
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Still, today seems to be one of those days that he is, so he will take it. He's quiet for a moment, considering. ]
Why's that?
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[He tugs Noct a little closer, and the hold he has on him changes slightly, shifting in nature from something steady and protective to something that almost feels a bit like clinging.]
Even something like this. You came up because you're worried about me, when it feels as though I'm the one who should be taking care of you.
no subject
Oh, is that how he really feels? Noctis is absorbing that comment -- funny how a little insight makes you understand another better. He senses the change in the hold and instead of pulling away, simply leans into it.
Let him, then. He wants Ignis to be able to do this for his own sake. How often had Noctis been wrapped up in his own shit and neglected Ignis? He reddens, shaking his head. ]
I don't need taking care of.
[ He tells him almost grumpily, but the kindness in his eyes softens his words. This has to be Ignis' time, not his, and this man has never been just his caretaker. ]
You've done so much for us. So just... be less like the usual you tonight.
[ Because Noctis is here for him, his grip around his waist protective, warm. ]
no subject
[He's teasing, of course, and when Noct leans into him, he leans right back, bringing his head to rest lightly atop Noct's as they sit together, arm in arm.]
I...
[He goes silent, staring up at the stars, and when he speaks again his voice isn't just softer; it's weaker, too.]
Sometimes it's almost...it doesn't feel as though they're really gone, does it? You know they are, but it still feels as if...
[He sucks in a shaky breath.]
As if when we go downstairs, he'll be there. As if when I go to the garden next, he'll be there. As if...when we go home...they'll all still be there.
no subject
He swallows the lump in his throat. It's hard for Ignis, he supposes, to have friends too, outside of them. So much of his waking hours have been devoted to the Crown, to Noctis -- he must not have all that much of a social life for himself. This town changed that. This town slowed them down, showed them the friends they could have, the life they could lead. The bonds they could make, too, outside of themselves.
And now two of Ignis' friends are gone. He's quiet, knowing that Ignis needs to get this out, needs to tell someone, needs to feel his feelings. ]
Yeah.
[ He says softly. ] You have more than enough right to mourn, Iggy. They're your friends.
no subject
It doesn't feel as though Insomnia is really gone, either.
[He blinks again and again, still with his face upturned, still carefully watching the night sky even when his vision goes a little blurry.]
It feels as though it should still be there. Like we've only just...gone away for a while, but it's waiting for us to come back to. Like Uncle is still there. Clarus. Your father.
[And someday Noct will go back there, too. He'll climb the throne, and take up his father's sword, and die for all of them.]
I don't want to —
[He stops short, choking on the word, shaking his head like that might stand some chance of dislodging it from his throat.]
— to see Prompto go through what's waiting for him back there. I don't want to lose my eyes. I don't want to lose —
[You.]
...everything.
[He breathes in again, erratic and thin.]
Things like this happen, and it makes me realize how powerless I am to fix any of them.
no subject
He knows how the loss of Insomnia tears at all of them. Lucis, fallen -- Regis was like a surrogate father to Ignis, too, and they've all lost loved ones when the kingdom crumbled. And so he watches him, watches that sharp, angular profile as Ignis tilts his head to the lightless sky with only stars. He sees tears pooling in the vivid green of his eyes even if Ignis probably wants to pretend otherwise, and Noctis reaches for his hand with his free one, finds it, threads his fingers with his.
He feels his own eyes burning, prickling behind eyelids as he thinks of them all, wonders if they would be waiting for them once again, like nothing's happened. His heart is heavy, and he thinks of the truths he'd laid at Dex's feet a lifetime ago, having allowed himself to quietly grieve as he wept for all the lost lives, the pain and heartbreak.
And then there's Ignis.
I don't want to lose my eyes.
The thought of that, of Ignis losing sight and Prompto getting hurt pierces deeper than anything ever has. Ignis would lose his eyes for Noctis' sake, and Noctis squeezes, determined. Ignis needs him now, he can't just break down, he can't. Ignis is afraid, and Noctis will be brave for him. ]
I won't let that happen to you.
[ He says firmly, letting go of his hand only to reach out to grasp his chin, making Ignis look at him. ]
I won't let you lose your eyes, or anything else. I won't let Prompto get hurt. No more.
no subject
But it's as he's looking at him, as he's hearing Noct's promises and knowing deep down that they're ones his prince, his king won't be able to keep, he remembers the conversation he'd had with Prompto early on, about the future and about choices and about secrets.
Ignis knows that there are some secrets that need to be kept, for Noct's own good, even knowing full well how badly that stings him. Even knowing full well how bitterly he'd taken it, when his father and Cor had done the same thing.
Ignis knows that he can't tell Noctis what's going to happen to him, if he complies with the will of the Astrals.]
Noct...
[Noctis told him not to be Ignis tonight.]
I'm going to lose more than my eyes. And I don't know if even you can prevent it.
no subject
[ How does Ignis know that? Is Ignis going to die? There's a cold fist that clenches over his heart, squeezing the breath out of him. Ignis looks so... sad, so awful and heartbroken and younger than he's ever seen him. Sometimes Noctis forgets that Ignis is only two years older than he is, that maybe Ignis also doesn't have much more knowledge of the world than Noctis does. ]
Are you going to --
[ Like Luna? Like the people who have gone too quickly? He can't finish that sentence because every part of him fiercely rejects that idea. He can't imagine it, he doesn't want to. This is Ignis, he's known him all his life and he's one of the strongest people he's ever known. That there is something that Noctis can't prevent and hearing him say it makes bitterness rise in his mouth.
No, for his sake, he will -- ]
You don't know that. You can't know that -- future's not set in stone. Whatever you dreamed or whatever people told you -- no.
[ Ignis can't be gone from him. ]
no subject
But I know you.
[Better than anyone, he knows Noct. Better than anyone else he knows, better than anyone else in the world who knows Noct too.
He tugs away from Noct's hand, looking up at the sky again, and this time makes himself deliberately search out the constellations they'd once chosen for themselves up there. The anak, the archer. The violinist. The sleeping pianist.
You're never too heavy for me to carry you, he'd assured him once. But in the future that's coming, he won't be able to. Not when it's Noct shouldering the burden of the whole world instead.
He draws a shaky breath.]
And I know that when you're the one asked to die, for the sake of the world...that's a future that may as well be set in stone. Because I know you. I know you won't refuse.
[He's quiet.]
Even if I want you to.
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He watches him look at the stars like he can glean comfort from them -- and maybe he does, like Noctis. Maybe he looks up at them too and thinks the same things Noctis does, maybe they give him the same consolation that there's something much bigger beyond just this place. Ignis is grieving for more than just John, Dave, Dex, Insomnia, and Noctis can only listen to him pour out his pain, be with him as he peels those layers away.
Ignis is saying things, things like Noctis dying for the sake of the world or something, that he won't say no and he doesn't say 'if', like he knows it's coming and Noctis feels something cold and dreadful curl in the pit of his stomach, something like dismay and heartache and fear and sadness too deep to comprehend, just barely--
-- but surely he doesn't mean what Noctis thinks he means. ]
Iggy... what are you saying?
[ Surely, he must be mistaken. That's an 'if, right? ]
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So he turns, pivots really, and when his arms come around Noct it's really not so different from all the nights when they've stayed together and he's held him like he's trying to protect him from anything that might seek to take him way, one hand cradling the back of his head and the other wrapped tight around his back.
It's easier when he doesn't have to look at him. It's worse, that he's not looking at him.]
Lunafreya's dog. The white one, Umbra's partner. The Astrals...sent me a vision, through her, of what's to be expected of the Chosen King.
[Chosen. Yes, he's been chosen, all right — chosen like a lamb for the slaughter, a blameless bleating sacrifice.]
I don't know if you remember. The furniture, when it accused me — it condemned me for blasphemy. And...it wasn't wrong.
[He ducks his head, burying his face in Noct's shoulder, and holds on all the tighter.]
There's not a day that goes by that I don't think of how I won't let them have you.
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He's going to die. Ignis had seen it, and he had carried that secret for so long. Noctis is going to die somehow, way sooner than he thought and wanted, because underneath the Chosen King is only a young man with his life ahead of him, or what's left of it, and even that will be asked of him, and he doesn't know what to think.
He's going to die.
So that's what Chosen means, why his father would sacrifice so much to send him away in case he got caught in the crossfire. Noctis isn't entirely sure of the details, and he's not sure he's looking for it right now because the shock of it leaves him speechless. But oh, he does want to live, to make the world better, to be with his friends, to hold Ignis like this...
His grip tightens around him and Noctis buries his head in his shoulder now, desperate and searching for comfort, hoping that he's wrong. ]
Ignis...
[ He manages, rattled as he looks up at him, haunted and numb, vulnerable and lost. He's going to die, but he's only twenty. And Ignis, oh, bearing the impossible weight of wanting to save him, and for a moment Noctis wishes he would even if he knows what his final answer will one day be. But Six, he's barely lived and now he's going to die. ] Yeah, I remember. I -- don't...
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[And there's savagery in his tone, then, finally jarred loose after keeping it under wraps all this time — the burden he's been condemned to shoulder alone. It's coming loose at last, all of his anger and his bitterness at the unfairness of it all, the raw anguish and the reluctance and the defiance, and threaded through it all is the deep heartfelt possessiveness he's kept since they were just children, since Noct's father who was almost his father, too, said please take care of my son.]
— They can't have you.
[You're mine! is something he's been heard to say on the battlefield, when he sights a target and marks it for certain death. He doesn't say it now, but if he did the phrase would be softer, more velvet, yet promising precisely as much retribution on anything that might dare to challenge it.]
I don't care what I have to do...what it demands of me. But I won't let them take you away from me.
[He's pretty sure he meant to stop that sentence with take you away, but then those last two words just sort of...slipped out, and changed everything.]
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He's not ready for it now, the shock of it a jarring, painful thing that he's not sure he would've wanted to know. But Ignis, oh, Ignis, he sounds wounded, angry, and Noctis feels something strange twist and wind and flutter when he hears the last of it. I won't let them take you away from me. From him, like Noctis has always belonged to him in some way or another, and isn't it true? Ignis belongs to Noctis from the first day they'd met. They'd grown up together, played together, learned and fought and grieved, and the echoes of possessiveness are not new.
Ignis is his advisor, his cook, his longest friend -- when he had nobody, he had Ignis.
He looks up at him now, words caught in his throat at the fervor of promise, and he doesn't know what to say aside from a soft, quiet -- ]
I don't want to die.
[ He will face it one day, walk tall towards his destiny and leave his friends behind. One day, he'll bring back the dawn for everyone, and especially for those he loves, but today he's a twenty-year old faced with a terrible, awful truth. A last, strained burst of optimism because all of this is heavy, too heavy.
But he has to try anyway, he has to be strong because Ignis is going to unravel. He grasps the back of his neck, fingers curling tight. ]
But hey, look at me -- [ He's pressing his forehead to his and steals Ignis' gaze from the stars above; there is little comfort to be found in them tonight. Noctis says something he hopes to one day fully believe. ] 'm not going anywhere, so don't do anything stupid, okay? You're the smartest one outta all of us.
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Because Noct doesn't want to die, and that's enough.
Noct doesn't want to die, and therefore he won't.
They're pressed together, forehead to forehead, Noct's hand curling at the back of his neck, and his glasses are getting jammed just a little from it but he doesn't care, because to adjust them would mean letting go and he's not going to do that, not ever.]
Noct...
[He closes his eyes, fingers tightening where he's holding him.]
Just once, I wish you would show as much care for yourself as I feel for you.
[But then he falls quiet, and what flits across his lips is a smile, probably, regardless of how much it's trembling.]
But...I suppose you wouldn't be my Noct if you ever did, would you.
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[ Noctis says softly, shifting so that at least his glasses aren't weirdly sandwiched up. Up close, Noctis can see just how gorgeous his eyes are, what a vivid, striking shade of green, so very emotive, vulnerable and open. He can see it, the tremor in his smile because even now Ignis is trying to be brave for him too, despite the weight on his shoulders and his grief. Noctis doesn't walk alone -- there's Prompto, Gladio, and then there's Ignis, who is hurting and struggling and Noctis isn't quite sure how to make things better.
But then it occurs to him, just what Ignis said -- and Noctis blinks, feeling a little strange flutter -- so much like what he's been feeling ever since... well, the first time the stars came out. ]
Your Noct, huh?
[ He's never said that before and Noctis has never pushed, and with the weight of new knowledge on him he can't help but be chagrined. He doesn't know how to deal with it, with any of it, but all he knows is that this moment is infinitely comforting, to have Ignis by his side means he's not alone. Does Prompto know, he wonders? Does he know Noctis is going to die? It would make him sad. ]
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[On its face, it's a touch of humor in an otherwise wry and awful situation, but deep down he's gauging for Noct's reaction, fighting off the urge to withdraw just a little from the uncertainty of how that's going to come across. He'd not meant much by it; it'd just been an offhand remark, born of Noct's permission to be someone who doesn't care so much about each and every precise word right now. But this is why he likes precision — because it avoids mistakes, and awkwardness, at least in theory.]
You wouldn't be you if you ever put yourself before others, either.
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[ Noctis admits after a moment. My Noct, like My Ignis, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world to say. He's so close, so close now to him and it's difficult not to realise what this could possibly be, what he wants to happen -- even if it'll be ill-advised and ill-thought out and probably entirely unplanned. ] I guess I really am your Noct.
[ Oldest, longest companion -- Ignis is loved, and deeply, even if Noctis is so often such a brat about everything that it's a marvel Ignis is still sticking with him. He's tentative, eyes lidding briefly. ] Kinda makes it fairer.
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