#truly cannot see a scenario where iggy falls first

[gundaggers]

leon falls first. and i mean, who can blame him?

[culinarystrategist]

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☁  five times my muse has thought about yours, and the one time they do something about it.

@noctxgar

i.

Even for someone as cool, calm and collected as Ignis, his teenage years are a trying time. Unbidden thoughts cause moments of extreme awkwardness. Mundane tasks, such as homework, seem to particularly set his mind wandering in certain directions, in spite of how much he tries to rein it in. The more he denies it, though, the worse it gets, leading to a increase in the amount of cool showers he takes. It’s unfair, because none of his peers show any signs of being similarly afflicted. Or perhaps they’re just better equipped to deal with these kinds of things.

The amount of time he spends with Noctis doesn’t help. Refusing to even consider the possibility that he has a crush on anyone, especially Noctis, Ignis uses logic and reasoning to diffuse those moments when his heart beats a little faster than usual. It’s exhilaration at watching his future ruler learning how to defend his kingdom that sets his palms sweating, or pride when he finally convinces Noctis to read a court report that makes his heart swell in his chest.

And that feeling he gets when Noctis claps his shoulder? Camaraderie, and nothing more.

ii.

Marriage is an ancient institution, and has brought together couples for time immemorial. Ignis cannot picture himself ever getting married; he is already fully committed to one person and that leaves little room for anyone else. Even once Noctis has wed Lady Lunafreya, Ignis will remain his loyal advisor, on hand for any eventuality. A spouse would only get in the way of his duty and that cannot be permitted to happen.

Sometimes, he thinks that Noctis might be a little reluctant about his upcoming nuptials, but then the Prince will get a faraway look in his eyes when he talks about Luna and Ignis realises that his fears are unfounded. Are they really fears, though? Or is it a wish? He cannot deny that Noctis has grown into a fine young man, fetching to look at and mostly charming to speak to, moodiness aside. Anyone who dared hope to catch Ignis’ eye has a lot to live up to because without realising it, or even intending to, Noctis has set a high bar.

The real fear clutching at Ignis is that after the wedding, Noctis will no longer need his friendship and that will break his heart.

iii.

Never in his life has Ignis had to deliver such a devastating message to anyone. Insomnia Falls, the newpaper headline reads, and he’s the one who has to break the news to the group. Horror contorts Noctis’ face and although Ignis calls for calm, it’s obvious that the Prince is in no fit state to comply. Confusion fell over all of them; this wasn’t the plan - it wasn’t how things were meant to play out and yet the facts were there, in black and white. Imperials had seized the city. The King was dead.

Every twitch of agony in Noctis’ face is reflected by Ignis’ own emotions. He feels a similar sense of deep loss, but he also feels for his friend. Were the others not there, he might have reached out, drawn Noctis into an embrace, and shown his friend he wasn’t alone. But that kind of behaviour was overly familiar and inappropriate under the circumstances. He must wear a mask of coolness, as he always does when the going gets rough, and be the rock to stabiliss Noctis’ turbulence.

iv.

A quiet hush has fallen over the group. Full bellies make for lazy evenings around the campfire. Casting his gaze around, Ignis looks to each of his companions before settling on Noctis, whose eyelids droop heavily. It feels like forever since they set out on their journey, and each day brings new challenges. Little wonder that by the time night rolls around it’s all they can do to stay awake long enough to eat. Everything looks so much better in the beams of moonlight, shining through the leafy treetops overhead. The clods of mud caking their pants, the streaks of dirt besmirching their skin and the bags under their eyes are barely visible in the dim light. Instead, Ignis sees only the pale skin, perfect features and elegant lips of his Prince.

Not his Prince for much longer. Within days, they’ll be setting sail for Altissia where they will deliver Noctis into the hands of his bride-to-be. Some things might have changed since they first departed, but not that. Noctis and Luna’s reunion will be overshadowed by the growing threat of the Empire; for Ignis, it will be marred by what he has come to recognise as jealousy. A childish emotion and one he toils to suppress because of its inherent negativity; he worries it will hamper his ability to perform his duty.

Were he a weaker man, he might very well give into the temptation to reach out and brush his fingertips over Noctis’ lips, just so he may know, even if only for a brief moment, if they are as soft as he’s always imagined them to be.

v.

The daemonic form of the  Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army lies decaying on the floor. It’s a tragic end that not even he deserved. Another casualty of war. They’ve barely caught their breath when Gladio calls out a warning  and a new onslaught of daemons comes. Monsters, of all shapes and sizes, come at them fast, given the four fighters no respite. Ignoring the nagging pain from overstretched muscles, Ignis holds his own alongside his comrades. They’re in this together, but not for much longer. Playing his role of the strategist, there is, he realises, only one course of action here: Noctis must get to the crystal, alone if needs be.

Issuing the instruction pains him because he knows that this might very well be the last time the four of them are ever together, and there is much he’d like to say to Noctis before they bid their final farewell. This is neither the time nor the place for any sort of declaration. If he dies here, and he suspects that he will, anything left unsaid will go to the grave with him. Noctis keeps on fighting, and for a moment, it looks as though he’s going to ignore his advisor’s suggestion. Only the additional voices of Prompto and Gladio seem to sway him and, seizing an opportunity, Noctis breaks away and makes a run for the elevator.

Ignis watches him go with a heavy heart and fading hope.

☁

The city is a shadow of its former self, even a blind man can tell. Their route from the former gates to the Citadel has taken them through areas which would once have been bustling with crowds but are now crawling with daemons. Sitting on his bunk while the others catch some much needed rest, Ignis laments the past and contemplates the future. The last stand; whatever happens at the Citadel will forever seal the fate of the world. That they have Noctis back in their company is truly a blessing he never dared to believe would happen. The King will lead them to victory, Ignis tells himself, and back to the light.

“You’re awake?” A whisper Ignis recognises as belonging to Noctis comes amidst Gladio’s snoring and Prompto’s soft sleep-murmurs.

“You are too,” Ignis fires back, mild but jocular reproach colouring his tone. “You should sleep. You need to be at your peak before…” Pausing, he licks his lips in thought. “Before we proceed.”

“I’ve had ten years of rest, Iggy. I don’t think I can take any more.”

The voice is a little deeper than it used to be, and wearier too, but the humour is still entirely Noctis. Sharply inhaling when he feels the mattress beside him dip, Ignis attempts to cover it up with a small cough.

“I don’t want to disturb the others,” Noctis whispers, far nearer than Ignis previously realised. They haven’t been this close in over a decade, and Ignis has missed it terribly. Over that time, he’s pictured a scenario like this - a reunion with Noctis - and has had a hundred imagined conversations during which he’s finally confessed his feelings. Now that he’s presented with the opportunity, his throat feels dry and his tongue too big for his mouth.

If he misses this chance, he will hate himself forever.

“Noctis…” It takes a couple of tries before he manages to get his palm resting on the King’s cheek, and he pauses for a few seconds to see if his hand will be brushed aside. It’s not, so he takes a deep breath and continues.

“I want you to know that to me, you are everything.”