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ressarioth · 6 years ago

Note

If you're still taking requests, I'd love to see something with older!Noct and the chocobros. I really wish we got more *time* to see their updated dynamic, after ten years apart. Bonus points for an older Cindy or Iris, since the game didn't give us anything beyond a mention of them.

Thank you for your patience. It’s been a challenge and a pleasure to write this.

At some point I decided to go all out, so you’re getting bonus Cindy, Iris and even Cor. Talcott gets a couple of mentions but no actual dialogue.

There’s a lot more that could be explored with this request, but I put the focus on Noctis reuniting with his friends and preparing to head to Insomnia. I tried to stick close to canon, though I took some liberties. I hope that’s okay.

Please enjoy.

Warning for FFXV spoilers for anyone trying to avoid those. And it’s long, in case that puts anyone off. (We’re talking about almost 11k words.)

[Requests currently closed.]

Ten years. Noctis tries to let it sink in, but it doesn’t register. The world is engulfed in darkness, daemons have spread across the land, Talcott is no longer a kid — that much he can see. What he struggles with is comprehending the extent of it. To him it’s like barely any time has passed since he entered the crystal. He learnt the truth about his fate, he reflected upon his life and the people he met, yet it all felt like mere moments. Then he woke up in a body which he didn’t witness aging.

Noctis leaves most of the talking to Talcott while trying to absorb the information being given to him. It sounds like a tale of some distant world. As much as he can see the state Eos is in, he cannot grasp how all of it affects the everyday lives of people. It’s not that he cannot picture Iris as a full fledged daemon hunter, it’s that he cannot see her having grown out of the sweet teenage girl he used to know. It’s not that he cannot picture Ignis fighting blind, it’s that he doesn’t want Ignis to fight alone. In fact, all his friends seem to have split up and it worries him.

The letter Umbra delivered to Noctis said that they were all waiting for his return and it was a comforting thought as he had woken up in a world of darkness swarmed with daemons. But now he’s starting to doubt. How long ago did Gladio write the letter and have Prompto and even Ignis sign it? How long did they all wait for his return before they started to lose hope? The idea of each of his friends alone out there troubles him. If they were together they could not only support each other in battle but also remind each other to have faith in his return.

That’s not the only thing disconcerting Noctis, however. After all the journeying they did together — from Insomnia throughout the land until they eventually made it to Altissia and Gralea became their final destination — he came to think of them as a unit, a group of friends sticking to each other’s side through countless trials and adventures. Yet it seems to have fallen apart in his absence, as if it all meant nothing without him. He’d never given it much thought before, but now he wonders if he was the glue holding them together.

So what will become of them once Noctis is gone for good? He doesn’t want to think about it.

A burst of fire lightens up the night not far away from the street, the small flames lingering and licking at the ground. Noctis leans over to the window, squinting through the smoke of vanishing daemons at a dark figure standing in the middle of the mayhem. Tall and lean, they could have been anyone if he didn’t make out the familiar flicker of two daggers disappearing into nothingness. At least he thinks that’s what he saw and it’s enough of a hint to get his hopes up.

“Stop the car!” Noctis instructs Talcott who slows down the small truck as asked.

The tires barely stand still when Noctis pushes open the door and jumps out of the seat. In a half-jog he approaches the lonely hunter, expecting someone he recognises. There’s the hair, its colour hard to distinguish beneath the cover of night, sticking up less stiff and spiky than he remembers. But when he makes out the glasses on the familiar profile he knows for sure.

“Ignis!”

The man turns, his head moving around in small and quick motions as if he’s trying to determine the exact direction from which he heard his name. Noctis slows his steps, ignoring the flames still flickering on the ground, then stops barely an arm’s length away from Ignis. Seeing his childhood friend and caretaker again is the first time he feels something akin to relief since who knows how long. The joy is dulled a little by the old feelings of guilt at the thought of Ignis losing eyesight because of him.

“I’m right in front of you,” Noctis says, giving Ignis the chance to ascertain his position and face him.

“Noct?” Ignis asks, voice raspy from either lack of use or from emotion — Noctis can only speculate. “Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

Hands reach out to Noctis. They find his palms, then go up his arms until they feel the structure of his face. Though he isn’t used to the procedure he stands still and lets it happen. If it allows Ignis to recognise him, to make sure that it’s him, then he’ll gladly give Ignis the chance.

“I can’t say I’m familiar with how your face feels,” Ignis admits to the pointlessness of his inspection, although his fingers linger on Noctis’s scruffy cheeks for a moment. “Might I suggest, however, that you shave at the next possible opportunity — or is the beard part of a new look I’m not aware of?”

Noctis chuckles: “I don’t know yet, I literally woke up like this not long ago.”

“Oversleeping like always? I should be surprised if it was any other way.”

Ignis always had a dry sense of humour and Noctis considered himself familiar enough with him to easily tell when he’s joking. But right now Noctis isn’t so sure and wishes there was something in his voice to hint at a jest. It would go along with the tease about the beard yet Noctis is too aware of how much time he took to return to consider the topic as anything but loaded with difficult emotions.

“I hear it’s been ten years.” Noctis can only offer an apology. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting this long.”

“Has it been ten years?” Ignis questions as if he lost track of time himself. Then he adds quietly: “It felt longer than that.”

Something inside Noctis threatens to break like Ignis’s voice during that last sentence. In his chest rises a desire to cry, but he isn’t ready to give himself over to the feeling. Forgetting that Ignis might want a warning, Noctis pulls him into a hug. Stiff at first, he lets it happen and even returns the embrace albeit with some reservation.

“It’s good to see you again,” Noctis mutters.

“I should say the same, but…” Ignis trails off, yet there’s no trace of sorrow Noctis can detect in his voice.

A croaked laugh escapes Noctis’s throat. It’s a reflexive response to Ignis making light of his blindness, but in truth Noctis doesn’t feel like laughing at all. His chest is filled with anguish over all the things he cannot change. Why did it have to turn out like this? He holds on to Ignis letting the seconds pass, wishing to prolong the reunion. They didn’t even have a proper goodbye before he got pulled into the crystal and he feels like he has to catch up on all the time he wasn’t around.

As if sensing that Noctis is unwilling to let go just yet, Ignis is careful as he pulls out of the embrace and — albeit reluctant — Noctis complies and releases him. The flames on the ground have died down and the street is too far away for the truck’s headlights to illuminate the area around them. Noctis remembers the torch lights they used to wear while exploring at night.

Once he summoned and turned on his light, Noctis is able to get a better look at his old friend. To Ignis it must make no difference, he’s in the darkness regardless, the remaining scars of his injury from ten years ago barely faded. He never talked about how it happened and Noctis was unable to address the guilt. The feelings linger, yet Noctis remains tongue tied as Ignis pushes up the darkened glasses hiding his eyes. They make him appear more closed off than Noctis remembers him being.

“Did you…just arrive?” Ignis’s inquiry feels like an attempt to fill the silence between them with anything but the things he truly wants to say.

“Yeah. Talcott came across me outside of Galdin Quay. We were just on our way to Hammerhead.”

“I see.”

Ignis grows silent with a thought he doesn’t share. It nurtures an uneasy feeling in the pit of Noctis’s stomach. To disperse it, he proposes: “Let’s go there together. The truck might be too small for all of us, but it’s not much further. You and I can walk.”

“The roads are dangerous, daemons are unbound in the dark. You just returned, there’s no need to exhaust yourself with fighting already.”

It’s just like Ignis to be concerned and put Noctis’s wellbeing first. He gives a smile which Ignis is unable to see and puts his hand on Ignis’s shoulder. “I rested for ten years, a little fighting won’t wear me out. Besides, I’ve got you by my side.”

“Very well,” Ignis agrees and Noctis detects the hint of a smile on his lips. “Let’s go.”

It feels good to be with Ignis again, to have him watch Noctis’s back during battle like in the times before his eye injury. Noctis admires how he can move as fluently as he used to when he could see his enemy. Nothing is left of the clumsiness with which he navigated the battlefield on their journey to Gralea. It must have taken a lot of training and sharpening his other senses to achieve this. Seeing him back in control makes Noctis almost feel at ease.

They sent Talcott to drive ahead, so it’s no surprise that the people at Hammerhead are expecting them when they arrive. Noctis scans the faces turning towards him in search for his other friends. Here and there a few are familiar ones but none of them belong to whom he’s looking for. He cannot help but be a little disappointed.

“Howdy.” A voice calls out to him and though the last time Noctis heard it was before he set out for Altissia, he still remembers it well. He turns around and finds Cindy waving at him from the garage. She’s still wearing the red hat over her blonde curls, but otherwise has switched to yellow overalls with some orange stripes and dark smears and spots of dirt all over.

“Hey Cindy, nice new look,” Noctis comments as he approaches her.

Cindy wipes her hands off on a rag which appears dirtier than her outfit. “I’d like to say the same thing to you, Your Highness, but I think you could use at least a trim and a haircut.”

“And a change of clothes.” Noctis smiles, looking down on himself at the combination of leather pants and jacket over a black shirt with skulls. Even though they still fit his body it feels like he’s mentally outgrown the clothes from his early twenties.

As she stuffs the cloth into her pocket, Cindy notes in her cheerful tone: “I wasn’t gonna say it.”

Ignis steps up beside Noctis and exchanges a brief greeting with her before asking: “Is Prompto around?”

“Should be on his way with a delivery for me,” Cindy explains and heads back into the garage. Noctis has the presence of mind to put his hand on Ignis’s shoulder and prompting him to come along before following her. She is leaning over the open hood of the car standing there by the time she continues: “I tried to call him when Talcott brought the news of your return, but he didn’t pick up. Probably busy on the road, so I left him a message.”

“Thank you,” Noctis feels obligated to say.

He remembers having a cellphone of his own — the knowledge temporarily slipped his mind while he was trying to process all the new information — and starts searching his pockets. When he cannot find it he tries summoning it and indeed the device appears in his hand, the screen exhibiting some cracks. It was bound to take damage eventually, though he cannot remember when he last held it in his hand and if it was already in this state then. He tries to start it up, but it doesn’t respond. Either it’s out of battery or dead for good.

Cindy takes notice of Noctis trying to revive his phone. “I believe Talcott got in touch with Iris.”

“Then I’m sure Gladio will receive the news as well,” Ignis suggests and Noctis would agree.

“Looks like we’ll only have to wait for them to arrive.”

“Are you hungry? We could have lunch in the meantime?”

Is it noon? Since it was dark when Noctis arrived, it felt like the middle of the night to him. He realises that it’s going to be hard to get a sense of time without the sun as an indicator — or the moon and stars for that matter. There isn’t a single celestial body visible in the sky, like it’s overhung with dark black clouds that block out any light from above.

“Are you gonna whip up something nice for us?” Noctis wants to know. He would certainly be up for tasting some of Ignis’s cooking.

“I’m afraid not,” Ignis responds and Noctis feels bad for being so thoughtless. Just because he’s able to hold his own in battle doesn’t mean that he can still do everything the way he used to. “I’m fresh out of ingredients, but I’ll make sure to stock up. For now let us eat at the diner.”

As Ignis leads the way out of the garage, Noctis waves in farewell to Cindy and catches up to him with swift steps. “So you do still cook?”

“Of course,” Ignis confirms with a smile.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Outside, Ignis heads right towards the diner and though Noctis is concerned about steering him around obstacles, he seems to have developed a sixth sense for navigating the area on his own without a cane. Noctis is tempted to ask how he does it, yet hesitant to bring up his blindness. There’s not enough time for Noctis to make up his mind, however, before they get interrupted.

“Noct!” The familiar voice calling out makes Noctis halt in his tracks. He looks around to find Prompto jogging towards him. That was faster than he could have hoped; Prompto must have been close by already.

Noctis takes a step towards Prompto, but not more because by then Prompto has reached him. The most notable change about his old school friend is the goatee. Otherwise Prompto feels much like the young man Noctis remembers. His features may have matured a little, but he still moves with a slight bounce in his step as if to expend excessive energy. As he begins circling and inspecting Noctis, Noctis turns along, feeling put on the spot.

“It’s really you,” Prompto notes and takes a step closer. He pats Noctis’s shoulder only to retreat again as if he doesn’t dare to get too close.

“That’s right, I’m back.” Noctis watches Prompto as he bounces on the balls of his feet. “Didn’t think I’d make it?”

Prompto bites his bottom lip and looks down. Noctis cannot blame him for having had doubts, the decade of uncertainty must have taken its toll on everyone. He wants to apologise for bringing it up, but even more so for how long it took him to return. Of all the trials he thought he was going to face on his way to Insomnia, he didn’t expect the reunion with his friends who remained in this world caught between hope and doubt to be one of them. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

There’s a small shake of Prompto’s head as he looks up and he blinks a few times too many. Noctis cannot stand the reservation anymore and pulls him into a hug. Prompto holds on tight, his arms draped over Noctis’s shoulders and his body swaying almost too little to notice. Noctis gives him a light pat on the back and Prompto rests his face in the crook of his arm. A small tremor runs through his body and he takes in a sharp breath followed by a few shaky attempts to exhale. Noctis isn’t sure if he’s crying or still just about able to hold it in.

Prompto cannot hide his feelings the way Ignis does and Noctis is tempted to succumb to tears as well. He pushes it all down — the sadness over how his friends must have felt without him, the dread over what’s to come. He cannot think about it, the prospect of it all more terrifying now than it seemed to him in the mystical light inside the crystal. His heart feels like it’s about to fall apart, the pieces hanging on by a few threads holding them together. He gives himself a moment to regain his composure and then pulls away.

“Good to see you,” Noctis offers, keeping his voice from sounding hoarse as much as possible. Prompto gives a smile, lips thin as he presses them together, still trying to hold his emotions in check. To take further control of the situation, Noctis invites Prompto to join in on lunch with him and Ignis. Prompto takes the cue and plays along, brushing off the feelings he was fighting.

“Maybe you’ll also want to shower,” Prompto suggests. “You look like a couple of daemons played ball with you in the dirt.”

“Well, that won’t do,” Ignis chimes in. “Had I realised you were in such a desolate state, I would have suggested the shower at once.”

Though Noctis can imagine the fighting on the way here got a little dirt on him, he wants to object to Prompto’s analogy. However, he realises that he may have been in a bit of a messy state already when he came to. Technically he spent ten whole years in the same clothes without washing, though he was in the crystal as far as he’s aware and time seemed to flow differently in there — he isn’t sure how it all works. It might be best to get the cleaning up over with, even though he’s starting to feel hungry.

Noctis complies to the request of his friends and goes through the logistics like organising a spare set of clothes. The benefit of storing most of their luggage in the same magical space as their weapons is that they can summon it wherever. The only risk is that they don’t know what would become of it were Noctis to die and the magic to fade: would everything become inaccessible or would it show up somewhere in this world, albeit maybe scattered? The thought leaves a bitter taste in Noctis’s mouth and he chases it away.

While Noctis makes himself presentable, Prompto is off to hand his delivery to Cindy. Ignis didn’t announce any plans and Noctis didn’t ask, but he’s not surprised when Ignis awaits him outside the washing facilities for the nearby caravans. It’s familiar to have Ignis around like that, keeping in the background when not needed, but always ready to be by his side when required.

“Might I ask—” Ignis wants to know after Noctis announced his return— “did you shave?”

Noctis laughs. “Did the beard feel that terrible?”

“Not necessarily, but when Cindy commented on it, I realised that my fingers may have misjudged the calamity of it.”

“Maybe I should have kept it then. If it was as disastrous as you make it sound it may have worked to scare off some daemons.”

“The price would be too high to even consider it.”

Noctis smiles and doesn’t respond, knowing fully well that his silence means his admission of defeat. The banter puts him a little more at ease, however, so he doesn’t mind the outcome. Back in the shower he was all by himself and his thoughts could wander unchecked towards the inevitable. He welcomes the distraction from it.

“I got a call from Gladio,” Ignis changes the topic. “He met up with Iris and Cor and they should arrive within minutes.”

“I guess lunch will have to wait a little longer then,” Noctis proposes and Ignis doesn’t object, though he takes the lead towards the diner. It’s where they agreed to meet up with Prompto who is already awaiting them, presumably having concluded his business with Cindy.

As Prompto catches sight of them, he calls out: “Not growing out the beard after all?”

“Maybe next time,” Noctis suggests when coming to a halt in front of Prompto, even though he’s aware it won’t come to that. It’s knowledge he wants to keep from his friends for now, he doesn’t want it to overshadow their reunion. To gloss over the gloominess that threatens to take hold of him, he questions Prompto: “So, you’re Cindy’s delivery boy now?”

“Something like that.” Prompto laughs, appearing more at ease than upon his arrival. Whether he feels as carefree as he acts, Noctis doesn’t want to guess. “It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal, huh?”

“Well, sometimes we have a beer together after work. I guess you could say we’re friends.”

“Friends — that’s all?”

“There’s nothing to it, buddy.” Another laugh escapes Prompto’s lips and Noctis isn’t sure if it’s nervous or incredulous. “Why are you so hung up on it?”

To Noctis it seems strange that Prompto would downplay it after all the pining. “It’s just that I remember you having a real soft spot for her.”

“I had, and then I grew out of it, that sort of thing happens over the course of a decade.”

“Oh right.” Noctis scratches his head at the reminder of how much time passed since they started their journey from Insomnia. “I keep forgetting it’s been that long.”

Prompto’s eyes grow wider. “Didn’t you realise how much time was passing?”

“No,” Noctis confirms. “Inside the crystal it felt like mere moments — or maybe that’s wrong. It was more like time didn’t exist at all.”

“Woah, really?” Prompto shifts his weight back and forth between his feet. “Then how come you’re looking older?”

Noctis gives a shrug, because there’s nothing he can say on the matter. “Beats me.”

Nearby, Ignis is keeping his thoughts to himself. He’s standing a little apart from them, face giving no indication of whether he’s following their conversation. Noctis cannot shake the thought that he’s carrying some troubles which he doesn’t share — because he never reveals those things. He wouldn’t want to be a burden to others, that’s at least how Noctis has come to understand his behaviour and Noctis struggled to break through those walls. Even now Noctis is uncertain about how to reach out to him. Maybe if they were alone…

“Well, if it isn’t the king.”

Noctis looks past Ignis to see who has spoken and his gaze falls upon Gladio, upper hair tied back and beard more prominent, but his old friend nonetheless. Following Gladio are Cor and what must be Iris and he steps forward to greet all three of them. Gladio scrutinises him from top to bottom as they meet and then notes: “You sure kept us waiting.”

“I’m sorry,” Noctis responds, feeling a little timid in front of the taller man. The apology is starting to get stale in his mouth, but there’s nothing else he can add.

Back in the day, Gladio voiced the most criticism of Noctis, putting his ability to be king in question. Even now he feels the doubts creeping back into his mind as if he was still the twenty year old prince struggling to do what is expected of him. The years he missed during which his body aged but his mind was stuck in reflection may be coming back to bite him.

Though Noctis gained insight and maturity, he didn’t get any new experiences to cement that. He doesn’t know how to be confident in himself when he didn’t get the chance to confirm his growth. He feels stuck between the person he used to be and the one he’s trying to become and it’s Gladio’s presence that makes him realise this more than anything else.

The awareness makes Noctis hesitant. Is he really able to live up to all these expectations? Will his friends believe in him? The road lying ahead isn’t an easy one and yet he’s starting to falter already as he’s looking at Gladio, unsure of how to greet him.

Noctis tries to hold the anxiety in the pit of his stomach at bay, but it continues to tell him that he doesn’t know how Gladio feels about him and the man might as well reject him again for whatever reason — maybe because it took him so long to return. He can no longer say if Gladio’s first words weren’t spoken in mockery and it’s making him paranoid even though reason tells him that he’s imagining things.

While Noctis is caught up in his own mind, Gladio closes the distance and embraces him, arms wrapping tightly around his back. For a moment he thinks it’s pressing all the air out of his lungs and keeping him from inhaling fresh one, before he realises that he has been holding his breath. He releases the pent up air, reminding himself how to breathe.

“Welcome back,” Gladio mutters in a low tone and Noctis almost misses the crack in his voice. The heart inside Noctis’s chest contracts in pain as he returns the hug.

“Yeah,” Noctis responds, just above a whisper. He doesn’t know what else to say, but he can feel the anxiety retreating as Gladio holds on to him and pats his shoulder blade.

There is something that Gladio doesn’t say and he cannot put his finger on it, but he can feel it in the firm grasp of Gladio’s hands: a devotion he had never thought about much before. Gladio was simply there — first as his fighting instructor, then as his friend. He never questioned why Gladio decided to follow him, but it occurs to him that he may have underestimated the meaning of Gladio’s choice.

They part in silence and exchange a nod before Noctis turns to Cor. The marshal comes towards him, face furrowed with more and deeper lines, and puts a hand on his shoulder. Cor’s greeting — “It’s good to see you, Your Majesty” — he acknowledges in likeness.

Last there is Iris, no longer the teenager recounting the events of Insomnia’s fall or taking him on a tour through Lestallum, but a young woman. Her brown hair is tied back in a long ponytail that reaches beyond her shoulder blades. She kept the fringe, though it’s covering her entire forehead now. Noctis cannot make out most of the details of her outfit in the scarce light, but he notices that she exchanged the skirt he remembers her wearing for a pair of dark pants.

“Look at you, all grown up,” he notes with a smile.

Iris returns the gesture and it has a sad touch — or he may be imagining things with the light from the diner casting dark shadows on everyone’s face. When they hug he notices that she has less difficulty to wrap her arms around his neck, though she’s still swaying on the tips of her toes. She must have grown a little in his absence, because he no longer has to bend down to meet her halfway.

Once they part there’s a moment in which Noctis doesn’t know what to say. So much to take in — so much that happened or changed since they last saw each other. Somehow he always wanted to keep her out of everything the most — as Gladio’s little sister she’s like family to him, too — yet now she is a daemon hunter, putting her life on the line on a daily basis. While he was inside the crystal, she watched Eos grow dark and be overrun by terror. It isn’t fair. Nothing in this world is.

Iris takes the initiative and asks: “What’s the matter with your hair?”

“Oh, it grew out a bit,” Noctis explains and runs his fingers through the dark strands he brushed back after his shower. “I’m not really sure what to do with it yet.”

“Hold on.” Iris starts searching her pockets and then presents him with what looks like a small strap to him. “Here. Try tying it together.”

“Thanks.” Noctis accepts what he now realises is a hair tie from her and tries to put her suggestion into action. It’s a bit of a clumsy process and it feels like at least half of his hair is slipping from his grip, but he manages to fixate the rest into a ponytail at the base of his head.

“Dashing,” Prompto comments and pats him on his shoulder.

“Yeah, not bad,” Iris agrees, seeming rather pleased.

“Thanks,” Noctis chuckles. Then, becoming aware that his stomach has started to feel like a black hole, he adds: “Now, who’s hungry?”

“Oh, finally!” Prompto exclaims and makes his way up the stairs of the diner. “I’m starving.”

“For someone who’s starving you seem to have a lot of energy left,” Gladio notes in good humour and heads after him. He’s followed by Iris who casts a quick glance over her shoulder but says nothing further.

Cor for his part seems less concerned with food as he notes: “Very well, we have a lot to discuss.”

Noctis gives the marshal a nod in response before he turns towards Ignis who hasn’t said a single thing since they stopped in front of the diner. Pushing his concerns about it aside, he places his hand on Ignis’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

If Noctis could have his way, he’d catch up with his friends over a good meal. He’d love to hear what everyone has been doing while he was away. Though the circumstances of his absence might give their tales an unpleasant undertone, at least he’d get to talk to them again without having to think of his duty all the time.

Yet his fate is inescapable even in the company of his trusted comrades. Noctis anticipated their interest in what happened to him, he just hopes it could wait a little longer — a sentiment that isn’t shared by anyone as he soon finds out. Until they’ve placed their orders, no one strikes up a long-lasting conversation. As soon as Takka is walking off away from their booth, however, Prompto leans across the table towards Noctis.

“So what was it like inside that crystal? You said time didn’t exist there?” The question must’ve been on his mind since Noctis mentioned the irregular way time seemed to pass inside the crystal. Maybe he was wondering for even longer what was happening to Noctis while they were apart.

“It didn’t?” Iris voice holds surprise. She took the place next to Prompto and is currently squeezed in between him and her brother. Noctis imagines it looked similar while she was riding with them in the car all those years ago. “So you couldn’t even tell how long you were inside it?”

Noctis puts away the menu. With all the information about what he missed, he shrugged off his wonder at how time functions inside the crystal. Now that the question is brought up, he doesn’t have much of a response. “Well, yeah.”

“Who cares about that.” Gladio sounds impatient as he interrupts. “More importantly, what happened while you were there?”

The curiosity in the eyes of Iris and Prompto becomes piercing as if they could extract information just by looking at Noctis. It puts him on the spot and he realises that he isn’t ready. Though he knew he would have to share what the Draconian revealed to him, he neglected to mentally prepare himself. How much can he reveal without saying too much?

“I would like to know as well,” the marshal adds in his composed voice. The pressure on Noctis is big enough, one more person showing interest doesn’t make much of a difference. Ignis alone remains silent, perched on the bench between Cor and Noctis.

“Well…” Noctis looks down at the table and takes a moment to choose his words. “I met Bahamut. He told me I was the King of Kings, chosen to deliver Eos from the darkness.”

It’s weird to say it out loud. Somehow it makes what he learned in the crystal sink in; somehow it still feels surreal. After all those years of questioning how fit he was to be king the Astral’s words left no doubt about it: It has to be Noctis, no one else can take his place.

Preoccupied with his own thoughts, it is with delay that Noctis becomes aware of the silence which has engulfed the table. When he raises his head he finds several pairs of eyes staring at him. He takes in the expressions of Prompto and Iris who look at him as if they’re seeing him in a new light. Even Gladio shows a hint of astonishment. His vision of Cor is blocked by Ignis who continues to face forward. Noctis figures that for Ignis it makes no difference in which direction he looks.

“The King of Kings…,” Iris whispers with a hint of awe. It makes Noctis uncomfortable. He never wanted to be admired.

“I knew what we got into was big,” Prompto notes, “but that it was this big…”

“Yeah,” is all that Noctis can respond and the table falls quiet again. The tension prickles on his skin and makes his hair stand on edge. The truth about the sacrifice the chosen King has to make buzzes in his head, wanting to be spilled like a glass of acid. It will etch away the joy of their reunion and overshadow the thoughts of his friends on top of his own.

Noctis doesn’t want that to happen, so he holds it in. It places him in the middle of a minefield which he has to navigate with care. One misstep — one thoughtless phrasing — and it could all blow up in his face.

“What about Ardyn?” Ignis speaks up for the first time. “Did the Draconian say anything about him?”

It breaks Noctis out of his nervous deliberations and he’s thankful for that. The sooner they get through the exposition over what he has to do, the sooner they can be done with this topic. There’s not much distraction he can hope for from now until his death, but not having to talk about his duty is easier than dodging part of the truth.

Noctis keeps his summary of what he learned about Ardyn brief. How the man became the Usurper and what Noctis has to do to stop him — he relays it without mentioning the blood price which must be paid. The self-sacrifice he has to make to obtain the power to end it all remains unspoken and threatens to choke him. He puts his hand to his mouth and feigns a cough. No one comments, busy as they must be processing the information he has shared.

“So we deal with Ardyn and this whole thing will be over?” Gladio is the first to share his conclusion and when he puts it like that it sounds simple. If you strip away all the matters of how and why then that’s what it most likely comes down to.

The hardest part is letting go the prospect of his future, a life with his friends. But Gladio doesn’t know about that, none of them do. Noctis keeps up the charade despite how it hurts. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Now that’s what I call good news.” Gladio’s tone is easy-going, as if they were talking about camping. Noctis can only speculate if part of it is a front. “How tough can dealing with one man be?”

It’s not that tough, as long as Noctis is prepared to give his life. He still struggles with the thought, puts it off. Gladio’s optimism is tainted by this knowledge that he isn’t sharing. He doesn’t comment on it. It’s best not to draw attention to the secret weighing on his chest.

“We shouldn’t underestimate him, however,” Ignis points out. His tone is unemotional as he goes over the facts. “The last time we encountered Ardyn he didn’t get scratched by our attacks. If what Bahamut told Noct is true then he may not only be a formidable foe, but we may have to leave the fighting to Noct.”

“And have him face Ardyn all by himself? No way!” Prompto sounds displeased.

Noctis appreciates the concern, but he doubts there’ll be a way around a duel between him and Ardyn. Before he can say so, however, Cor speaks up: “Let’s worry about that once we get there. First we have to get through Insomnia which is probably infested with daemons.”

They know the Crown City is where the Usurper awaits. Noctis mentioned as much, so he isn’t surprised at the marshal making plans. What he wonders about is the choice of words. “Probably infested with daemons?”

“No one has been there since its fall,” Ignis explains. “We can only assume the state the Crown City is in. It is likely, however, that the daemons have taken it over and with no one there to hunt them their numbers might be higher than anywhere else.”

“I see.” It makes sense, of course. Noctis isn’t sure what he expected. Ten years is a lot of time to try to reclaim the city, but then why would anyone have bothered? It didn’t have relevance to people surviving their everyday lives. Until now.

“I will organise the remains of the Crowns Guard and the Hunters.” Cor sounds prepared for a full operation. Maybe he’s been thinking about strategies even before Noctis’s return. “We’ll sweep the place, clear it out so you can make it to the Citadel with ease.”

“No!”

His objection earns Noctis a few shocked gazes and everyone seems stunned silent. Gladio frowns and even Cor takes a minute before managing a “Beg your pardon?” in his bafflement.

The truth is that Noctis wants as few people involved as possible. Death lies ahead, he knows that better than anyone, but he wants his life to be the last and only sacrifice in this fight. Too many people have suffered the consequences of Ardyn’s grudge. If he gets a say in just one thing as he’s headed towards his predetermined fate, then he’s going to make sure that no one else dies with him.

Noctis could try to explain that while dodging around the full extent of what he’s shouldering. Maybe his friends would accept his wishes, maybe Cor would relent — or they could question him and argue against his decision. He hasn’t been back with them for long enough to make an accurate prediction. He’s not going to take his chances though. As much as he wants to meet them on eye level as a friend, he rises to the role of king.

“I only have to face Ardyn at the Citadel and I trust Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto to get me there.” When Noctis speaks it is with composure and confidence. “Taking care of all the daemons can wait till after Ardyn’s defeat.”

“What?!” Iris looks at him with wide eyes. “You’re setting out alone again?”

Her protest comes unexpected. A decade ago she waved them off at Cape Caem with a smile on her face. Though Noctis could tell she didn’t like parting ways, she let them go without arguing. But back then she was a teenage girl and now she’s a young woman. It seems he has to get used to what that means.

Noctis keeps up the calm facade he thinks befitting of his position. His face remains blank while he debates what would be the best response. Part of him wishes for her to relent if he holds her gaze long enough without budging. He doubts that’s going to work, though.

“And you’re okay with this?” Iris turns to the rest of the group for support. Her gaze wanders clockwise around the table, starting with her brother and ending with Prompto where she lingers.

Under the pressure of her attention, Prompto bites his lips. Noctis catches a glimpse of him wringing his hands before hiding them in his lap. His discomfort is palpable, though Noctis isn’t sure if it’s the plan itself that bothers him or that Iris is fixated on him.

Noctis cannot blame Iris for projecting her hope for support on Prompto. He appears to be the only one besides her who displays a degree of displeasure at the current conversation. The rest of the party at the table is masking their feelings. Though a faint shadow has entered Gladio’s gaze, his expression is resolute. Cor remains quiet outside of Noctis’s field of vision and Ignis’s face is as neutral as it has been since entering the diner. None of them share what they’re thinking, but if they disagree with anything that Noctis said they’re holding it in.

Eventually Gladio breaks the sinister silence. He puts a hand on the shoulder of his sister and offers a confident smile. The cheer in his voice just about matches his expression. “Leave it to us. We’ll get Noct there and back again. You’ll see.”

She’ll see that no matter how big of an army marches into Insomnia, for Noctis it is always going to be a one-way trip. The thought rises up like bile in Noctis’s throat. He swallows it down with the bitterness that threatens to engulf his tongue. If he wants to keep the truth about his fate to himself, he cannot let his feelings coat his words. It won’t change anything about the facts either way. The battle ahead isn’t one of numbers and can only be decided by him — that is the burden he must bear.

Realising that she’s overruled, Iris presses her lips into a thin line and lets herself slump into her seat. Gladio’s hand slips of her hanging shoulder and Noctis feels another crack in his heart. He has to avert his eyes from the sight, tells himself that he wasn’t going to plead with her. He cannot afford to be swayed by her disappointment. His closest companions are falling in line with his decision, whatever doubts they might hide in the back of their minds. The only one left he has to make sure to convince is the marshal.

Noctis leans forward to get a view of the man who has folded his hands on the table and seems to be contemplating what has been proposed. Ten years ago he sent Noctis on a quest to retrieve the Armiger and reclaim the throne — a quest that Noctis is about to complete. Cor demanded that Noctis step up to the heritage of his father and was willing to leave the rest to him. Now is the time to see if the man still stands by that.

“Very well.” When Cor speaks he meets Noctis’s gaze, the years of his experience reflected in his eyes. “As the king decrees.”

The words sting. They remind Noctis that he’s forcing his will upon his friends, even if that wasn’t the marshal’s intention. He tries not to let the displeasure show on his face. It doesn’t befit the king he’s trying to be. He’s getting his wish, he cannot worry about the price.

Preparations shouldn’t take long — for the most part they have to check their weapons and stock up on supplies. Noctis is the only one who bothers going through his utilities since he hasn’t used most of them in a decade. Ignis advised against rushing things and enforced that they would take some time to rest as well. They agreed to camp at the haven closest to the border of Insomnia which leaves them with the shortest distance to cover in the morning.

To Noctis it doesn’t matter at what hour they set out. It’s dark whether it’s noon or midnight. He would even travel at night and work his way towards the Citadel in one go, though Ignis might be right that he shouldn’t needlessly push himself. The confrontation with Ardyn won’t be easy and they’ll have to fight their way through daemons to get there. Besides, it gives him a little more time with his friends before the end.

Noctis disliked packing for the journey ten years ago, but it was also coupled with clearing out his apartment and moving all his things back to the Citadel. In this case he just has to go through his luggage and see if anything needs to be replaced. He decides not to bother getting new razor blades, because his beard is taken care of for the rest of his life. It’s a strange thought, grim.

“Wow, that’s a lot of stuff.” Noctis looks up from his luggage to see who has spoken and finds Iris approaching him with slow steps. “Makes it look like you’re going on another big journey.”

“It’s just everything from the last trip, I doubt I’ll need all of it.” Noctis gives a small smile to ease her worries, trying not to think of the what awaits him at the end of the road. “The way home will be much shorter.”

Iris stops beside him, still having an air of hesitation about her. It’s likely that she has lingering feelings about the plan, but tries not to bring the topic up again. “The last time we parted ways I didn’t get to see you for a whole decade.”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry about that,” Noctis replies, understanding that it must have been hard on her. He wishes he could offer more, because with each apology he utters the words feel less meaningful. “But I think I’m repeating myself.”

A gentle chuckle escapes Iris’s lips before she notes: “It’s fine.”

There’s a pause where neither of them speaks and Noctis zips close the bag he was checking. With this everything is set and the dread of making his goodbyes is creeping up on him. What do you say before you’re heading off to your death? He’s been pushing the thought away, but he’s running out of time. His fingers feel fidgety on the zipper of his bag, tempted to pull it back open just to have something to do.

“Let me come with you.”

The request stuns Noctis into silence. His fingers freeze up before they slip off the zipper. When he turns to look at Iris he finds that a fierceness has flared up in her eyes which matches her resolute tone. It overwhelms him.

“Whatever it is that you have to do,” she continues, “I want to be there. I want to help in any way I can.”

Noctis’s first instinct is to say no. He cannot get the young girl out of his mind who ran into his arms with tears in her eyes after getting lost. A girl he wanted to protect since that day — not only because her older brother is his friend and was always resolute about keeping her out of harm’s way. Yet here she is in front of him, a young woman who has learned to fend for herself. The youthful features from the last time he saw her have matured and speak of more experience.

The desire to keep Iris away from the upcoming battle is not about her age or capability. Just looking at her, Noctis realises that he cannot use that as a pretence. It’s his selfishness that makes him want to get as few people involved as possible. It would just mean one more person to keep in the dark as he’s preparing for his end…

“There you are.” Gladio’s voice drowns out Noctis’s speechlessness. He turns to find his friend approaching and his guilt is pushed aside by a brief glimpse of relief. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, I made sure I have everything I need.” Noctis feels terrible using this as a way out of the conversation. The other options he can think of, he likes even less.

Gladio stops next to Noctis and pats him on the shoulder. “Time to say goodbye then and hit the road.” His gaze falls upon Iris and as Noctis follows it he can see her pressing her lips together like she did in the diner. “It won’t be for long. We’ll be back before you know it, so don’t worry.”

Fo a moment Noctis thinks he was mistaken and Iris will swallow her objections and bow out. Yet when she crosses her arms in front of her chest he gets a strong sense of defiance from her that culminates in a one word: “No.”

It’s the word Noctis was unable articulate before and here Iris is, saying it loud and clear. He wouldn’t even need her to add what she says next. “I’m not staying behind this time.”

The cheerful look on Gladio’s face fades as he scrutinises his sister. It might be that he’s not used to her talking back like this or simply that he likes the idea of her accompanying them even less than Noctis. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m coming along,” Iris declares, unperturbed. “This is no longer a request—” she gives Noctis a determined look— “I’ve decided and nothing you say can change that, so you better not waste time on trying to talk me out of it and just accept it.”

Noctis can feel his heart sink and Gladio tense up beside him. He thought the topic was over and done with, yet here it’s unfolding again. The only relief is that this time around he might not have to be the one to argue.

“Absolutely not!” Gladio’s response is along the lines of what Noctis expected. It would be easy to take his side and shut Iris down. Yet something about it feels wrong.

“Don’t treat me like I’m still a little kid!” Iris shoots back.

It’s what Noctis concluded by himself yet isn’t willing to admit. He has no counter argument except that he doesn’t want her to join and he doubts she would let that stand. Leaving it up to Gladio might be his best bet, yet he’s torn between hoping that as her brother Gladio will get his way and feeling guilty about wanting to exclude Iris.

“This isn’t just some random daemon hunting.” Gladio sounds surprisingly calm as if he’s trying to rub off on his sister. “No one has been in Insomnia for a decade and we don’t know what’ll await us there. I owe it to our parents to keep you safe—”

“Don’t make this about our parents, don’t you dare!” Iris cuts him off. An angry glint has entered her eyes as she’s staring her brother down.

Noctis is growing uncomfortable. With the mention of the Amicitia siblings’ parents a line was crossed where he turned from silent bystander to involuntary intruder. This feels like it’s become too much of a family matter for him to have any say in the outcome. He wants to retreat and leave it to them to work out between each other. The worry that such a thing would be more rude than listening in keeps him in place.

Gladio gives a sigh and then turns around. “You say something, too, Noct.”

“Me?” Noctis is caught off guard. Just as he considered how out of place he is, he’s getting dragged in.

“Yeah,” Gladio confirms. “You’re the king and it’s your quest, so it should be your decision.”

A reasonable argument pushing Noctis into unreasonable territory. He feels thrown back into his early twenties when he was expected to take up the mantle of king and reclaim his kingdom. By now he thought he’d moved beyond that and accepted his duty when reflecting in the crystal. Yet one part of ascending the throne to die is the knowledge that he won’t have to rule. He realises that despite what he thought he’s not prepared for this. Using a hint of his status earlier to get his way was meant to be a one-off thing.

Noctis never learned how to make decisions as a ruler. What makes them fair or the best for everyone? How can he choose the side of one of his loved ones over the other and decree it to be so without question? It’s one thing to weigh in as a friend — and he already felt weird about that. He doesn’t think he can make the final call on this — not without second-guessing himself till the very end. The authority of a king weighs on his shoulders in a situation where he doesn’t want it.

Gladio’s gaze is expectant. When Noctis looks over to Iris her eyes share a similar expression. She seems willing to wait on his input at least, despite her earlier insistence that she wasn’t going to change her mind. Or maybe she would even budge if he told her no at this point. The thought alone is enough to feed his guilt.

If only Ignis were here. Noctis finds himself wishing for his advisor’s council. His gaze wanders across the parking lot in hopes of catching sight of the man, but Ignis is nowhere to be found. He closes his eyes to give himself some time to think. If no one is there to tell him he has to figure out how to handle this decision by himself. There’s one thing he knows for sure: he doesn’t want to make this call as a king. So if he were to resolve this as their friend, what would he do?

Noctis takes a calming breath and meets the waiting gazes of the two siblings. Gladio has crossed his arms and furrows his brow with a curious look. Iris is the opposite, having lost the air of determination as her hands are shoved into her pockets and her face is touched by uncertainty. He still remembers the smile she put on when she saw them off at Cape Caem, hiding her sadness underneath. Who knows what her face looked like when she learnt that he hadn’t returned with his friends from Gralea. He cannot put her through that again.

“I’m not saying this as your king, I’m saying this as your friend.” Noctis keeps his gaze on Iris but braces himself for Gladio’s disappointment. “If you really want to come along, then I won’t stop you even if I’d rather keep you out of it.”

Iris’s face lightens up in pleasant surprise. Noctis swallows down the unease as she hurries towards him and wraps her arms around his neck. His body sways from momentum with which she presses against him as he loosely puts his hands on her back. He pushes aside the prospect of her watching him die. It’s a thought that haunts him with all of his friends. Not even filling them in might keep the it at bay. Compared to that Gladio’s expected protest seems easy to bear.

“Are you sure about this?” Gladio wants to know with less force than Noctis would’ve predicted. His posture is unchanged, yet his expression has become skeptical.

Iris pulls away at the sound of her brother’s voice and Noctis gives a shrug. It’s a lacklustre gesture, he knows. “Did Talcott lie to me about Iris hunting daemons together with the marshal?”

Confusion enters Gladio’s eyes. “No, he didn’t. So what?”

“So you’re fine with her doing that but don’t think she’s up to coming along with us? Seems kinda unreasonable, don’t you think?”

“He’s just being Gladdy,” Iris comments with a sigh and waves it off. Now that she has her way it seems she wants this discussion to be over. Ignoring her brother’s displeasure, she puts on a soft smile. “I’m going to get my stuff. Don’t cop out on me now.”

“I won’t,” Noctis promises. He knew he’d have to commit to this choice the moment he made it. There’s no taking it back.

Noctis watches Iris walk off towards the diner before he turns back to Gladio and gives him a questioning look. “Still trying to keep your sister out of the fighting?”

Gladio gives a sigh and looks away. His demeanour is less vehement than what Noctis is used to from him. There’s not much of his “I know better than you” attitude which he displayed during their past disagreements. Instead Noctis thinks he catches a hint of resignation in his friend’s hanging shoulders.

“It’s not the fighting itself that worries me.” Gladio’s tone is thoughtful. His gaze is getting lost in the dark outside of Hammerhead. “It’s because we’re headed to Insomnia…”

While Noctis remains silent he’s not without wonder at what Gladio is thinking of. Among the four friends Gladio is the one who values action the most. With how little he reveals of what’s on his mind, Noctis got the impression there was nothing he couldn’t handle. It’s rare for him to share a glimpse of his worries. Noctis tends to forget he has any.

“Many people died that day, not just our fathers,” Gladio continues and returns his attention to Noctis. “And Iris was there for it all. Going there could bring back a lot of memories.”

Noctis nods. Though Gladio doesn’t specify it, he seems to include all of them even while Iris is his biggest concern. The prospect of his fate keeping Noctis preoccupied, he hadn’t even thought of that. He wants to assure Gladio that Iris is fit to handle it, but he cannot muster the confidence. Most of that he needs to hold up the front while it’s getting harder to block out the thoughts of his certain death.

“And just between you and me—” Gladio steps closer and lowers his voice— “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Everything inside Noctis’s torso contracts as if it wants to shrivel up with him and disappear from sight. His vision blurs and he blinks a few times too many. Gladio doesn’t seem to notice.

“I don’t like the fact that you turned down the support of the entire Crowns Guard and won’t even accept the marshal’s help,” Gladio admits.

Noctis wouldn’t be surprised to hear that from Prompto, maybe even from Ignis. Gladio bringing it up is unexpected. “That sounded different at the diner.”

“Because I didn’t want Iris to worry.” Gladio scratches his head. “But now you’re allowing her to come along, so I gotta wonder why you refused the closest thing we have to an army.”

They hold each other’s gaze as Noctis considers his reply. It’s understandable for Gladio to want to know his reasoning. It’s not backtracking on his decision if he gives Gladio an answer. Still, he keeps it brief. “The fewer people the better. I want to avoid casualties.”

The frown returns to Gladio’s face. At first he says nothing, just regards Noctis with that expression. It isn’t easy to endure when the secret Noctis is trying to keep slips closer and closer to his tongue.

“You want to avoid casualties,” Gladio reiterates as if processing the words. It almost seems understanding until he fixates Noctis with a glare that makes Noctis’s throat feel tighter. “Then how come my sister is the one person you’re making an exception for?”

Noctis is almost glad about the reproachful tone. It makes him defiant, too proud to beg for understanding. “It’s her choice, I’m not making it for her.”

“But you were fine making it for everyone else.”

Gladio is right and it stings. If Noctis wanted to make Gladio see where he’s coming from he’d have to reveal the truth. It’s tempting but he isn’t ready. He cannot say if he’s ever going to be ready. If he has to tell his friends about the sacrifice he will have to make, however, he at least wants them all to be present for it.

“I know,” Noctis agrees. There’s no point in arguing, so he decides to cut this short. “I suppose I don’t have a reasonable justification for it.”

Another pause before Gladio inhales audibly and looks away. Noctis cannot guess the thoughts running through his head but he seems conflicted. They have that in common for once, even if it’s for different reasons. While Gladio is dealing with what upsets him, Noctis is struggling not to fall apart. He didn’t think his secret would follow him at every turn.

To drown out the thoughts as best as he can, Noctis keeps his on Gladio. It’s rare to witness him work through his emotions. He rubs his brow with his index finger and then strokes over the top of his head as if to push back his hair. It’s an absent-minded gesture, as if he’d forgotten he tied it together. Then his eyes refocus and lock with those of Noctis.

“Noct…” Gladio puts a hand on Noctis’s shoulder and there’s a solemn look in his expression. “Promise me you know what you’re doing.”

Gladio’s grip is loose and yet it feels like he’s pushing Noctis down with all the might of his request. It’s less filled with expectation and more like a plea. Noctis deliberates how much it would cost to assure Gladio that he does know what he’s doing. He thinks he does — to an extent — but will it be enough? The confidence he holds isn’t sufficient to assure his friend. He considers feigning it, but that doesn’t feel right.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t have my doubts.” The admission is quiet but steadfast. Noctis wants to commit to his duty and he wants to convey that to Gladio. “But I have to look ahead and move forward. I owe it to everyone, not just the people who got me here.”

His words are spoken in memory of his father and Luna who prepared the path for him. Their deaths still weigh on him, the thought of them reminds him of what he must do. It’s like Bahamut said: they sacrificed their lives for him and now it’s his turn. He won’t let it be in vain.

Noctis puts all the determination he can muster into his gaze. He squares his shoulders, just a bit, to invoke the trust of his friend. Gladio nods and squeezes him in acknowledgement.

“Then I won’t ask for more.”

It might be a compromise on Gladio’s part, just how Noctis feels like the shoes he’s trying to fill are just a bit too big for him. But Gladio is going to trust in him even if he cannot warrant the outcome. And he is going to live up to his destiny, regardless of how it troubles him.

“Thank you.” Noctis puts as much sincerity into his voice as he can muster without breaking. “I promise I will see this through till the end.”

“Right there with you.” Gladio moves his hand from the shoulder and pats Noctis’s cheek. Then he breaks away and moves past Noctis. As if he flipped a switch inside his head, he’s back to business, leaving behind no traces of the conflict he went through. “Looks like Ignis and Prompto are done stocking up on supplies. You comin’?”

“Yeah.” Noctis doesn’t mind moving on. It won’t help him defeat Ardyn to make endless deliberations. He reflected on his life inside the crystal, now it’s time to act. He sends away his packed bags and follows Galdio to meet up with Prompto and Ignis who are lingering near the store.

There aren’t many people around that Noctis interacted enough with to warrant a few parting words. With Iris coming along, his list has gone down from four to three. Gladio and Prompto wonder why he’s bothering when they can be back with daylight. He doesn’t explain, so they follow Ignis’s example and remain quiet for the most part as they accompany Noctis on making the rounds.

First Noctis checks in on Cindy one last time and asks her to give his regards to Cid. When she comments that he can visit the man in Lestallum himself once this is over, he laughs it off. He doesn’t want to make claims he knows he cannot keep.

Iris is in the process of giving Talcott a hug when Noctis walks up. As brief as most of their interactions where, Noctis feels like he at least owes a goodbye to the young man. Talcott’s offer to drive them to Insomnia he turns down. He already decided that they’ll go by foot, though he doesn’t disclose his reasons.

The marshal awaits them by the gate to see them off. His gaze lingers on Noctis as he tells them to fight well. Noctis cannot pinpoint what about the moment does it, but it reminds him of when his father bid him farewell. Back then he didn’t get why his father prolonged the departure and spoke with concern. After Insomnia’s fall he discovered hidden meaning in his father’s last words to him. In the light of his own death, he finally understands.

“Take care of things in my absence,” Noctis requests of Cor, leaving the phrasing vague. With him the line of the Lucii will die, but someone will have to take charge. He has confidence in the marshal to handle it for as long as people are adapting to yet another drastic change. Besides, he wouldn’t know who else to ask here.

Noctis can imagine Cor will begrudge him soon for knowingly walking off to his death without saying anything. His friends will, too, if he doesn’t tell them before the end.

#toporcelainivoryandsteel #final fantasy xv #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #iris amicitia #cindy aurum #cor leonis #final fantasy 15 #fanfiction #writing requests #writing tag #text heavy #-i lost count of how many times i changed the ending-#-really there were quite some additions and changes in the whole thing-

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