Chapter Text
Ignis Scientia had discovered that he had one weakness.
He’d considered himself to be virtually without them after his many years of training. But the problem had little to do with his training.
The problem, in fact, started with Noctis Lucis Caelum.
He’d been tasked with taking care of Noctis, making sure that the prince came to no harm. But the sense of responsibility that Ignis felt had grown greater and greater over the months, the years they’d been together. And it had only weighed on him more as they’d set out on this journey, this . . . whatever it was.
One night, while the others had slept, Ignis had lain awake staring into the darkness. Restless, he’d gotten up and walked out to where they’d parked the Regalia, lowering his weight gingerly onto the hood. There he’d perched, looking out at the road. He kept thinking of Noctis. The prince’s narrow shoulders, his slim waist, his hair falling into his eyes, his rare smiles. Those images had flashed through his mind nearly every day lately, at the wheel, before he fell asleep. Sometimes he’d catch himself drifting off and thinking about the prince in ways that would’ve made Noctis blush, had he known. He couldn’t let himself sleep, not with those thoughts running through his head.
He shouldn’t have been letting himself drive, either. He was much too sleep-deprived to be alert at the wheel, and he was afraid the others had noticed. But there he was, sitting on the hood of the Regalia in the middle of the night, depriving himself even further of sleep.
“Noctis . . .” he said aloud, though he knew the prince wouldn’t hear him.
Ignis knew he couldn’t hold onto these feelings. There wasn’t a chance in hell Noctis felt the same way, and besides, as royalty Noctis would never be able to stoop so low as to enter into a relationship with an advisor, at least not publicly.
He felt himself beginning to fall toward sleep, the darkness weighing him down, and then Noctis stood in front of him, in front of the Regalia, his slight form fitting between Ignis’s knees. Ignis reached out to him. Noctis took his hand.
“You . . .” he began just before jolting awake. Noctis was nowhere to be seen.
Ignis clenched a fist. He’d been trying and trying to confront this, but he just hadn’t been able to make himself do it. And yet when he closed his eyes, remnants of his dream came back to him in flashes—Noct, standing before him, ephemeral in the scarce light. The little light that remained in his eyes, the shadows over his lips.
He looked up into the ink-black night sky. Noctis Lucis Caelum is, indeed, my single weakness.
If Prompto or Gladio knew, they’d no doubt give him hell for it. They might never let it go. And he would feel—invalidated. Like everything he’d ever built himself up to be would collapse and break under the weight of that single fact. And why? He couldn’t exactly pinpoint why. Because he was so weak as to fall for the person he’d sworn to protect? Because he’d submitted to his feelings?
But no, he refused to truly submit to his feelings. He might acknowledge them, might make room for them, but he wouldn’t accept complete and utter defeat because of them. He would keep them locked down tight, in a place where no one but he would ever know of them, and he would soldier on.
“Ignis?”
He started. “Who’s there?”
A figure stepped out of the darkness beside him. Iris Amicitia, sister to Gladiolus. She was the last person he’d expected to find out here, out of the four of them, but perhaps she was a light sleeper.
“It’s just me,” Iris said. “Sorry to scare you.”
“No, it’s—fine. I just . . . thought I was alone.” Ignis sighed. “What are you doing up, anyway? Something wake you?”
“I thought I heard something. But I’m not sure,” Iris said with a slight shrug. “I just decided I’d get up and go for a walk or whatever.”
Ignis frowned. “You know, if I weren’t here, it could be dangerous. Gladio wouldn’t want—”
“I can take care of myself.” Iris crossed her arms. “I know the risks, anyway. You shouldn’t worry about me, and neither should he. All right?”
“All right.” Ignis couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at his mouth. “I understand.”
“Okay,” Iris said with a sigh, smoothing her skirt and moving to sit on the other side of the Regalia’s hood. Close enough to be next to him, not close enough to touch. “So what are you doing out here, Ignis? You don’t look so good.”
He cleared his throat. “Haven’t been sleeping much, I have to say.”
“Why’s that?” She leaned forward a little, and though he didn’t look at her, he could feel the concerned weight of her gaze. “Is everything okay with you and . . . ?” She tipped her head toward the two tents they’d set up in the clearing, their usual tent alongside the smaller one they’d set up for Iris.
“Yes. Everything’s fine.”
Iris must have sensed something in his face and tone, because she didn’t look away. “You know,” she said, her voice soft, “if you don’t want to talk about it, you can just say so. You don’t have to lie. But . . . if you do, I’m here. I promise not to tell.” She smiled, pressing a finger to her lips. A silent promise.
Part of him wanted to. Part of him knew he would feel better once he’d gotten this off his chest. But he also couldn’t, because once Iris knew, there was no telling what would happen next. He trusted her—he didn’t think she would volunteer the information to anyone, even in confidence, even to her brother, if he asked her not to—but secrets had strange ways of escaping. And if Noctis found out, he’d be almost certainly ruined.
“I can’t talk about it,” Ignis said. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” Iris leaned back, sounding the slightest bit surprised. Maybe he was imagining it. “If you say so.”
Ignis looked away again, but as soon as he did, his subconscious called up that recurring image of Noctis. It lasted for only a fraction of a second, yet the reminder sent his heart rate and blood pressure spiking. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
“I think you need to get some sleep,” Iris said. “It’s not nightmares or something like that, is it?”
More like fever dreams. Ignis slipped his glasses back on. “No, I just . . . It’s nothing, Iris. You should sleep. I’ll stand watch here, in case that noise you thought you heard is indeed something to be worried about.”
Iris stood up and turned toward him, offering him a small, sad smile. “Ignis, now you’re making me worry about you.”
“Don’t,” he said. “I’m fine.”
She took a deep breath and began walking toward the tent. A few steps later, she paused, and he heard her voice drift through the darkness. “Stay safe out here.”
“Thank you,” he said after she was out of earshot.
He tried not to fall asleep, but his whole body felt so heavy, and his eyes ached to close. He drifted off once, still sitting up. Just before he was woken by the motion of his chin dipping toward his chest, he was plagued by another phantom: Noctis sitting beside him, his slight warmth bleeding into Ignis’s body, his head resting on Ignis’s shoulder. Ignis woke with a sharp intake of breath. He didn’t dare go back to the tent now, not when sleeping there could jeopardize his darkest secret.
Would he wake to some dream he couldn’t stop remembering, and find himself unable to look at Noctis the same way again? What if he reached out, half-awake, to find that the person next to him wasn’t Noctis? What if the others caught him murmuring Noctis’s name in his sleep? Hell, he didn’t even know if he’d ever said Noctis’s name in his sleep—or anything—but he didn’t want to find out.
He could sleep in the Regalia, uncomfortable though it was, and as long as he woke up early enough he could claim he’d just been out getting things ready. With a sigh, Ignis slipped into the driver’s seat, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
Someone was shaking his shoulder. Hard. Ignis swatted away the hand at his arm and sat up. “What—” he began, before blinking the images before him into focus and realizing that someone was Prompto. The sun was already high overhead. Damn it.
“What the hell happened to you?” Prompto asked, sticking one hand on his hip. He was standing just inside the Regalia’s ajar passenger door, having leaned over the seat to wake Ignis. “Take a midnight drive or something?”
“Something like that.” Brushing himself off, Ignis opened the driver’s door and stepped out.
“And you didn’t make it out of the car before you crashed?” Prompto said. “I mean fell asleep, not crashed the car. Noct would have your head if you broke his car.”
Noct. Ignis ran his hands through his hair in an attempt to smooth it down. “Yes. I was pulling the key out of the ignition and thinking about things I’d need to do come dawn, and I happened to drift off. Happy?”
“Iggy, it’s fine,” Prompto said. The expression on his face looked the slightest bit hurt, and more than a little confused. “Just making sure you’re okay is all. I mean, I was kinda worried you were unconscious or something. Gladio wasn’t, but like, how was I supposed to know? It’s not like the Regalia is our designated place to sleep. And driving at night is dangerous. And creepy.”
“Won’t happen again,” Ignis said. Unless Noct wants to go somewhere. The thought made heat rise to his cheeks, for reasons he couldn’t quite understand. He glanced away, hoping Prompto hadn’t noticed.
“Ignis?” Of course he’d noticed, damn him. “You sure everything’s good? Where’d you go?”
“I didn’t go anywhere,” Ignis said. “Not anywhere in particular. I was just driving.” A truth followed by a lie. He felt guilt wash over him even as he spoke, but the truth was a much stranger story, and one he didn’t dare tell.
“Maybe you should’ve just stayed here.” Another voice joined the conversation, and Ignis tensed. He looked back in Prompto’s direction to find that Gladio now stood next to him. Ignis hadn’t seen him approach. “We might have needed you here. Or you might have fallen asleep at the wheel. Not your greatest decision, Ignis.”
“I know. Like I said, it won’t happen again.” He fought to keep his anger from showing—to keep his expression neutral and his hands from clenching into fists. He couldn’t be angry with Gladio, anyway. The only person he had to blame for this was himself.
“Good. Well, if you’re rested up enough to drive, all we’ve got left to do is get our stuff and wake up Sleeping Beauty.” Gladio aimed a thumb over his shoulder at the tent where Noctis was, undoubtedly, still asleep.
“Yes, of course.” Ignis paused, glancing around them. “Where is Iris?”
“Said she was getting ready. She’ll probably be out here in a minute.” Gladio started to turn back toward the tent before looking at Ignis again. “You want to do the honors, or should I?”
“Don’t antagonize him, Gladio.”
“Never said I was going to.” He turned his back on the two of them and strode off.
Ignis sighed, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned against the Regalia’s driver’s door. In doing so he faced away from Prompto, but Prompto circled the car to stand beside him anyway.
“What’s on the schedule for this afternoon?” Prompto asked.
“More driving. We’ll stop if—if Noct wants to, of course,” Ignis said, hating the way he stumbled over the prince’s name. He kept his eyes fixed on the line of trees beside the road.
“That’s it? What if I want to take pictures?”
“Ask Noct.”
Prompto sighed dramatically. “Fiiine. You’re no fun, Ignis, you know that?” He turned and looked over his shoulder, and at the flash of a camera, Ignis flinched.
“What was that?” he snapped, but Prompto had already run halfway back to the tent, camera in hand. No doubt he’d captured Ignis’s brooding profile and was prepared to immortalize it with the rest of the pictures he’d taken so far. Normally he didn’t mind Prompto’s random candid photos, but he didn’t particularly want to remember the look on his face while he’d been trying not to think about Noctis.
He hadn’t woken to dreams this morning, he knew that much. He could only hope he’d looked more like he was simply dozing in the Regalia than crashing. After all, he’d left the others in the first place so as not to embarrass himself.
“Get your ass in the car,” he heard Gladio say from behind him.
“Yes, sir.” Noctis.
“Gladdy, you need any help?” Iris.
“No, I’m—Prompto, no pictures, it’s too early in the morning.” Gladio again. “I will kick your ass, I promise.”
“Someone’s in a good mood.” Noctis.
Ignis couldn’t help but smirk, even as Gladio said, “Yours too, Prince Charmless.”
He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Noctis shuffling toward the Regalia, rubbing his eyes like he hadn’t seen the sun in a year. “Good morning, Noct.”
“Morning.” He stopped in front of the back door on the opposite side. “I could go back to sleep. . . .”
“I’d advise you not to,” Ignis said, still struggling against the smile that insisted on curving his lips. For some reason, seeing Noctis drowsy made him feel marginally better—it reminded him of the way he’d felt late last night and put thoughts in his head reminiscent of his dreams.
“But I’m tired.” Noctis dragged a hand through his hair.
“I suppose if we’re on the road a while, you can take a nap.”
Noctis shrugged. “I guess. Just don’t let Gladio wake me up.”
“You do look like you’re about to drop,” Ignis said. He turned to the back door behind the driver’s seat and opened it, then walked to the side of the car where the prince stood and rested a hand on his shoulder. “This way. Wouldn’t want you to trip over your own feet.”
Noctis rolled his eyes, but he endured Ignis’s touch until he could slide into the backseat. Ignis tried not to let his hands stray and closed the door.
Prompto, Gladio, and Iris were with them a moment later. Gladio, carrying on a conversation with Iris, put their gear back into the Regalia, and Prompto leaned over one side of the car with his camera positioned in front of his face. Noctis looked too tired to brush him off.
“Are we ready?” Ignis asked as Prompto took shotgun.
“Ready!” Prompto said.
“I could use some more sleep,” Noctis said at the same time.
Gladio slid into the backseat, Iris between him and Noctis. “You’ll live.”
Ignis found himself behind the wheel again, and as soon as he started the car and pulled onto the road, he realized how little he’d slept. It’d been long after midnight by the time he’d decided to sleep, and Prompto must have woken him around nine. At least he seemed to be in better shape than Noctis, who was currently falling asleep in the seat behind him.
Or so he thought. As the miles wore on, he wanted more and more just to close his eyes. And whenever he did, the phantoms came back to haunt him. Phantom touches, warmth, sights. If he fell asleep, would he be with Noctis, finally?
“Iggy? Hey. Ignis. You’re drifting.” A hand closed around his arm, forcing him to tip the wheel and maneuver the car back into the right lane. Ignis glanced down and saw the ink that indicated it was Gladio’s hand. Next to him, Prompto was looking between the two of them as though trying to figure out what had just happened.
“Sorry,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Do you need a break? Noct can drive,” Gladio said, earning a grumble of opposition from Noctis. “Seriously, if we get into a car accident—”
“I’m fine.”
Prompto was still looking at him, probably thinking of this morning. Damn it. This, after the two of them had found him asleep in the Regalia earlier? Too conspicuous. They’d know by now that something was wrong. He kept his hands clenched around the wheel and hoped neither Prompto nor Gladio would say anything about it in front of Noctis. Focus. Focus.
“We can stop here,” Noctis said as they closed in on a gas station and a few other buildings scattered around the road. Grateful, Ignis pulled over and found a parking spot, and the five of them stepped out.
“I’ll need to refill the gas tank, but I can meet you all somewhere in a few minutes.” Ignis pocketed the keys and looked to Noctis, who had already started to walk off.
The prince turned and met Ignis’s eyes, and Ignis almost flinched to avoid that inevitable contact, to keep his expression hidden. He didn’t want Noctis to see anything compromising in his face. But he forced himself not to look away, hoped his expression was truly unreadable.
Noctis said, “We won’t go very far,” and kept walking. Ignis breathed a sigh of relief.
Standing beside the car, waiting for the gas tank to fill, he felt himself falling toward sleep again. He’d very nearly fallen asleep driving not long earlier, but he couldn’t let himself give in. Sighing, he withdrew the gas pump, dropped a few gil into the machine, and headed for the café.
A while later, making his way toward the door with a half-empty coffee cup in hand, he nearly ran into Prompto, who appeared in the doorway without warning. “Hey, man, where’ve you been? I thought you said you were gonna meet us when you were done with the car.”
“I did. I was on my way to you, I just thought I’d pick something up before we left.” Ignis held out the coffee cup.
“Are you that tired?” Prompto asked, grinning. He didn’t wait for an answer. “Noct and Gladio talked to a hunter just now, and he told them about some job not too far from here. They want to take it on. You know, get some gil, maybe treasure. . . . What do you think? Wanna come? Or would you rather stay back?”
“I will not be staying back, Prompto.”
“Better hurry up then,” Prompto teased before taking off at a jog through the parking lot. When he turned around at the edge of the street and Ignis still hadn’t moved, he called, “Thought you said you were coming!”
“I am.” Rolling his eyes, Ignis took one last drink from the coffee cup, disposed of it in the nearest trash can, and followed.
Noctis and Gladio waited for them behind a row of buildings. Gladio had his arms crossed over his chest, while Noctis sat on the ground, still looking like he could fall asleep.
“Where’s Iris?” Ignis asked.
“She wanted to take a shopping trip or something.” Gladio glanced back at the two short rows of buildings. “I told her to stay behind. This is dangerous, even for us.”
“I don’t see why she couldn’t come along.” Ignis looked to Gladio and knew immediately that Gladio had seen the challenge in his eyes and heard it in his tone. “We already have to protect Noctis, anyway.”
“I don’t need protecting,” Noctis said into his hand.
Gladio answered Noctis without even looking at him. “You keep telling yourself that.”
“Perhaps one of us should double back and ask Iris if she wants to come?” Ignis turned his palms to the sky. “I don’t see why leaving her here is better, in fact. If the Empire happens to show up, she’ll have nowhere to go, and we won’t be there for her.”
“Why would the Empire come after Iris?” Gladio asked, glaring in Ignis’s direction. “If anything, they’ll be after us. Not her. Besides, there are buildings, and rooms with doors to lock—where we’re going, there’s nowhere to hide. And since when do you make decisions for Iris? I told her she’d be safer staying back, and she said fine.”
“Hey, guys?” Prompto began, looking more than a little nervous. “Maybe now’s not the time for this.”
“Stay out of it, Prompto,” Gladio said. “I don’t want—” He broke off and looked back toward the buildings, and the others followed his gaze.
Iris had found them. She had an armful of supplies and was grinning. “Gladdy, thank goodness you’re still here. I thought you guys would have left by now,” she said, out of breath. “But I brought you some healing stuff. I thought I could help. If that’s okay.”
Ignis looked at Gladio, who ignored him.
“Yeah, if you want,” Gladio said to Iris, whose expression brightened.
“Great! Okay, I’d be happy to hand some of these things off to you guys, unless you want me to hang onto them for you.” She shifted her grip on the supplies, but one of the potions slipped out of her grasp and hit Noctis in the shoulder. Iris squeaked in alarm. Noctis just blinked. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Noct. I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s fine.” Noctis retrieved the stray potion from where it had landed next to him.
Iris distributed the curatives, and Prompto tried to coax Noctis into action so they could leave. He kept insisting that he was too tired, but eventually he stood and followed them. Ignis imagined, for a moment, hearing those words from Noctis’s mouth, taking the prince into his arms, insisting that they sleep. He brushed away the ridiculous thought and walked after the others. The usual middle of nowhere sprawled before him.
They’d stopped in Duscae. Tall grass and trees surrounded them at nearly every turn, and buildings, in the rare places where they could be found, hid behind swaths of branches. Occasionally, the trees gave way to huge patches of land populated by nothing but rocks, soil, and the occasional hostile.
That was where the five of them were headed. They emerged from the trees that surrounded the road, with Noctis running in front, Gladio beside him. Ignis was pulling up the rear. He’d been staring after Noctis when he noticed the shadow of a ship moving in the distance.
He swore under his breath. “Imperials,” he called out, interrupting whatever conversations were going on ahead of him. “Ten o’clock, Noctis.”
“Serious?” Noctis glanced to his left, slowing his pace as he studied the shadowy outline of an Imperial ship.
“Keep moving,” Gladio said. “We should get out of the open.”
Ignis refrained from pointing out that there was nowhere for them to go. Even the tree line behind them was too far away to grant them cover within a reasonable amount of time. Instead he followed Noctis and Gladio, and watched the ship inch closer.
“If they find us, we fight,” Gladio said over his shoulder. “Iris, be careful.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Mere minutes later, the Imperial ship had, in fact, found them. Though likely there had been no doubt before, even at that distance. Magitek Troopers rained to the ground in front of them. Ignis’s daggers were in his hands before he could think about it. Ahead of him, he saw Noctis’s engine blade appear.
Noctis struck first. Ignis rushed into the fray after them, daggers flying, alongside Prompto and Gladio. He tried to keep an eye on Noctis at first, but the MTs were launching their attacks at light speed, and Noctis seemed to be doing fine on his own. Focus. He turned away to concentrate his attacks, and the soldiers were history in seconds.
“Assassins,” Prompto said and toed the lifeless machine at his feet. “They’re getting serious.”
Noctis released his sword into the air, letting it vanish. He dusted off his hands. “Could’ve been worse, though.”
Ignis turned to face Noctis and barely managed to keep from recoiling. “Noct. What are you saying? You’re injured.”
The prince just stared back at him. A cut on his cheekbone welled red blood, threatening to spill over. Ignis closed the distance between them and dabbed the blood from Noctis’s face with his thumb. He didn’t think about it until his hand brushed Noctis’s skin, flushed and warm from the recent battle, and when he realized what he was doing, he jerked back. “Iris, over here.”
“Got you covered.” She pulled a small vial from her pocket and applied some of the healing medication inside to Noctis’s wound, and it began to mend immediately. “There. Better?”
Noctis nodded. “We should keep going, before they come for us again.”
He turned away from them both.
Ignis clenched his hand into a fist. How had he let himself slip like that? Reaching out to cradle Noct’s jaw in his hand had felt so . . . effortless, so right, yet now he was watching the prince walk away, tension clear in the lines of his shoulders. In his sudden anger, Ignis lost himself. He wanted to go after Noctis, take him into his arms, whisper his name. He wanted to trace the prince’s shoulders with his hands until he felt the stiffness there ease. He wanted the prince to see him. He wanted to fall to his knees.
“You okay?” Iris asked from beside him.
Ignis shook his head as if to clear it. “Yes. Fine.”
Ahead of him, Prompto turned around, brandishing his camera. “You two joining us or what?”
“None of that, Prompto,” Ignis shouted back and broke into a jog to catch up. Prompto snapped a picture anyway.
“Where are we even going?” Prompto asked a few minutes later, as the five of them continued their trek through the tall grass. They’d made little progress. The terrain around them looked unchanged, and there were no signs of the road or any places to make camp. Neither Noctis nor Gladio had mentioned seeing their targets.
“A little farther,” Gladio said. “Should be getting close.”
“I hope so, because it’ll be dark soon,” Prompto said.
“You afraid of the dark?”
“Well, of course I am, it’s swarming with daemons! I’d be stupid not to!” Prompto said. “Ugh, it’s not even that late yet.”
“Let’s get in there, take out the targets, and find somewhere to crash,” Gladio said. “Come on.”
The sun had sunk even closer to the horizon when they came upon their targets. Ignis checked his watch and saw that it was barely three in the afternoon—they seemed to be losing daylight, literally, with every day that passed. But there was still enough light to fight.
The targets: a pack of havocfangs. At least ten of them, from what Ignis could see between the bushes that framed the area. In front, Noctis crept forward, preparing to strike. He turned to the others and signaled with one hand: three, two, one.
Noctis vanished and reappeared in the center of the pack, weapon in hand. The others raced after him, even Iris, and within seconds they were all lost in the whirlwind of bloodshed. Ignis let his thoughts dissipate—except the single command to focus on eliminating any threats—and lost himself in the fight. He flipped daggers into the air, spun in circles, blocked, parried. Never was he more focused than when he was in combat, protecting Noctis.
The pack was strong, but weaker than the Magitek assassins they’d encountered earlier that day, and soon they’d rid the area of them. The air around them was silent again, the ground newly fertilized with havocfang corpses. Ignis turned to face the others, but as soon as he did so he realized something was wrong.
“Where’s Noct?”
“He was just here,” Prompto said. “He can’t have gone far.”
Don’t panic. Eliminating threats and protecting Noctis were two different things, Ignis remembered for the thousandth time, and he’d just failed at the second. Something had happened while he focused on the battle. He should have been focusing on Noct. The thought made his chest ache.
“Noct!” Prompto called out. There was no answer.
Ignis scanned the horizon. He could see no one around for miles, and yet—Noctis wasn’t here with them, was he? But at the same time that thought crossed his mind, Gladio said, “Here!”
He crouched just outside the perimeter of havocfang carcasses. Ignis swore and ran across the clearing, trying not to trip over the dead creatures.
Ignis knelt in the dirt and shook the prince’s shoulder. He lay facedown on the ground, one arm outstretched, as though he had tripped and never gotten up. But he was warm, and his chest rose and fell with even—though shallow—breaths. “Noct. Noct. Can you hear me? Are you all right?”
Noctis stirred, opened one eye. “Ignis. . . .”
“What happened? Are you hurt?” He suddenly wished he wasn’t wearing gloves, wished he could press his palm to the prince’s cheek and feel the heat of his skin. If only to see how bad it was, he told himself, to see if he was feverish. He was still trying to convince himself of that when Noctis moved.
He reached down and lifted the hem of his jacket with one hand, revealing a tear in the fabric of his shirt and—and blood. Ignis peeled back Noctis’s shirt just enough to reveal the offending wound. It looked like a knife had grazed his side, just above his hip. Most of the blood, it turned out, was dry, but the cut was still open and hadn’t completely clotted.
“Didn’t . . . heal,” Noctis said, the words slightly slurred.
Ignis shook his shoulder again, and Gladio spoke up from behind him. “Noct, what’s wrong with you? What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know,” Noctis admitted. He tipped his head back, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. His hands pressed against the skin around the wound, and a pained sound escaped his throat.
“Noct, just hang on. We’ll figure something out.” Ignis swept the prince up into his arms. Noctis swore softly into Ignis’s shoulder. Gladio called after them, offering to take Noctis, but Ignis refused.
Letting Gladio carry Noctis to their next destination would have been a better idea—he couldn’t deny that. But the feeling of having Noctis in his arms was too addictive to give up. The prince’s head rested next to his shoulder, his back against Ignis’s arm. His eyes were shut, his face flushed and drawn with pain, and yet Ignis couldn’t stop stealing glances at the hollow of his throat and the curve of his neck where it met his shoulder. He had to force himself to pay attention.
He lagged behind, struggling with Noct’s weight, and Prompto hung back with him while Gladio and Iris ran ahead. Just when he’d begun to wonder if he would make it or if he’d have to stop and let Gladio carry Noctis, he saw Iris looking down at them from a rock marked with runes. A safe haven. Ignis breathed a sigh of relief.
After a short struggle up the hill that led to the site, Ignis found the others laying out some of their supplies. Iris had spread one of their blankets out on the ground, and it was there that Ignis placed Noctis’s unconscious form.
As Iris examined the wound, Ignis shook Noctis’s shoulder slightly, but the prince didn’t respond. “Noct,” he said, his voice beginning near a whisper and rising uncontrollably. “Noct!”
“He’s out,” Gladio said. “Iris, what do you think? Is he bleeding too much? Or is it poison?”
“I don’t know.” Iris took Noctis’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. “The symptoms are similar, aren’t they?”
“They are,” Ignis said, fighting back panic. “And while he does seem to have lost blood, it can’t have been much. Not from a wound like this. It has to be poison.”
“Don’t we have antidotes?” Prompto asked.
Iris’s face fell. “I didn’t pick any up when I went looking. I thought you guys just needed potions and stuff.”
“Not your fault, Iris,” Gladio said. “We can try to wait it out. His system might get rid of it eventually. I know I’ve gone without antidotes before.”
“No.” Ignis shook his head. “Not happening. It could kill him, Gladio.”
“Then what’re we supposed to do?”
“I could scout around,” Prompto offered. “Or run back to that store Iris went to.”
“It took us hours to get here,” Ignis said. “You won’t make it in time if you try to go that far. If you’re going to scout, at least stay close.”
Gladio crossed his arms over his chest. “And you think we’re going to be able to find antidotes out in the middle of nowhere?”
“Not impossible. You’re the one with field-survival experience anyway,” Ignis said. “Iris and I could stay here. We’ll call you back if he improves.”
“Yeah, but—” Sighing, Gladio ran a hand through his hair. “My skills don’t include finding specific things in limited areas. I usually just pick up whatever.”
Try. Try, he thought. For Noct. “There’s nothing else we can do.” He gestured at the sky, which grew darker by the minute. “And we won’t be able to go anywhere soon without being attacked by daemons.”
“Fine. You two stay here, we’ll go look out there. Anything happens, tell us.”
Gladio turned to leave, and Prompto ran ahead of him, humming some song Ignis had never heard before. Ignis shook his head, wondering why Prompto couldn’t just take things seriously for once. He turned back to Noctis.
“I’ll see what I can find in the supplies. Be right back,” Iris said and stood up.
Ignis sat by Noctis’s side, alone. Iris, sitting several feet away, had her back turned. The dusk was nearly silent around them. Ignis brushed Noct’s hair out of his eyes, and as he did so, he felt the unnatural heat of his skin. Definitely a fever.
Iris turned toward them, and Ignis quickly sat back, putting a few feet of distance between himself and Noctis. But he wasn’t fast enough. Iris noticed his sudden movement and hesitated.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You look really pale, too.”
“It’s nothing.” He waved her off. “I’m worried about His Highness, as you might imagine. We can’t lose him.”
She had an “if you say so” look on her face, but she simply said, “Yeah. I understand.”
He’d fallen too far, too fast. Ignis forced himself not to look at Noctis. “Did you find anything that might be of use, then?”
“No,” she said with a sigh. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve—”
“Iris, don’t apologize. None of this is your fault.” He took a deep breath. “If . . . if anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I failed to protect him, and now he needs us and we can do nothing.”
“How can you blame all of this on yourself?” Iris asked. “It’s not like you hurt Noct. You’ve done everything you can.” When he didn’t reply, she continued, her voice softening. “Do you still need to talk? Or are you afraid Noct will hear you?”
“I don’t need to talk.” The lie burned his throat, and he looked off to the side at Noctis. “I’m all right. Truly.”
“Well, if you do, I’ll be over here.” She sounded slightly affronted, but Ignis couldn’t fault her for it.
The hours dragged on. Dusk became darkness, and Noctis barely moved. Once or twice he shifted and made a small sound in the back of his throat, but when Ignis went to him, he found the prince still unconscious. He touched Noctis’s forehead and found that his fever had not improved. Even though he was asleep, Noctis’s pain was still evident in the set of his mouth and the crease between his brows.
“Noct,” Ignis whispered, his hand light on the prince’s shoulder. “You have to make it. You’ve just got to pull through this.”
He felt Iris looking at him. He had more to say, but he dared not voice his thoughts. You have to make it. If not for Lucis, if not for the others, then for me. If I were to lose you, I . . . don’t know what I’d do with myself.
Moments passed in agony as Ignis considered the weight of those words. He’d never really thought about the truth of them—never really thought about it at all—but without Noct, his inner compass was directionless. The needle would never point north.
A voice split the darkness, calling Iris’s name and then Ignis’s. Ignis started to rise to his feet, but he didn’t want to leave Noct and sank back to the ground. Iris strode to the edge of the wards and looked out. “Gladdy, is that you?”
“Hey, I’m here too!” Prompto called back.
“Yeah, it’s us. We found antidotes,” Gladio said. “Some other useless stuff too.” He and Prompto emerged from the shadows, both of them slightly blood-spattered and dirty. The sight of them made the tension release from Ignis’s muscles all at once, and while he wanted to stand and go to Gladio and Prompto, he could barely manage to keep himself sitting upright.
“Here you go, Iggy,” Gladio said and tossed an antidote to Ignis, who nearly dropped it.
Prompto noticed his slip and grinned. “Careful.”
“Shut up.” Ignis shifted Noct’s jacket and shirt, exposing the wound again. He could have sworn the prince tensed.
With shaking hands, he applied the medication to the wound. Noctis seized for a moment, his entire body going rigid, and then went completely still. Ignis, having nothing else to hold onto, let the antidote fall to the ground and took one of Noctis’s hands in both of his.
Finally the Crown Prince of Lucis opened his eyes, and Ignis thought for one delirious second that he’d never seen anything more breathtaking.