Chapter Text
Noctis was not at the Citadel the day the envoy from Niflheim showed up, sweeping in like a hurricane and carrying the promise of death in his wake. The stench of decay clung to him, a cloying scent slowly filling the throne room from the tiled floors to the vaulted ceilings until even the Crownsguard standing at attention shifted uncomfortably and wondered why their breaths came short.
Ignis was at the Citadel the day the envoy from Niflheim showed up, all razor-teeth smiles and diamond-hard eyes and too many layers of tattered clothing, dangling peace like a double-edged knife, offered blade side first. He was there only by chance, having arrived an hour ago to give a status report on Noctis. When the envoy sauntered in, doom at his heels, Ignis looked to the king and, at his nod, nearly imperceptible, mingled with the Crownsguard that escorted him in, invisible and listening.
“Your Majesty,” the envoy said with a dramatic bow.
Ignis did not recognize the man, nor cared for his smiles that held no warmth; he searched his database for a match. As an envoy, he would have to be important, and yet, Ignis had problems finding any information on him. Ignis frowned a touch. Could the Empire have sent a nobody for safety's sake? After all, the envoy looked like nothing so much as a vagabond off the streets. But no, his demeanour belied his station, the mocking friendliness and casual ease with which he carried himself, even in the heart of enemy territory, in the presence of the king.
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” The only thing colder than the envoy’s smile was the king’s voice. “Chancellor Ardyn Izunia?”
Chancellor? Ignis did a double take, quickly re-filtered his search. Chancellor, and he didn’t know. Ah, but that was why – even with the name, his database only found the barest of information on the chancellor. Ardyn Izunia, chancellor of Niflheim, age unknown, no background information, no published photographs.
And, if a footnote from an unknown source is to be trusted, possibly the most dangerous man in the Empire.
Any normal person would look at the note, and look at the man, and laugh. Ignis was not a normal person. The invisible darkness seeping from the man made him rather inclined to believe it.
“The Crown City of Insomnia,” the chancellor said, arms uplifted, a parody of reverence that turned to curses on his tongue. “The shining jewel of Lucis. The rumours do not do it justice. It would be a shame to lose a treasure such as this.”
A tightening of his grip on the arms of the throne – that was all the reaction Regis showed. That was all the reaction the chancellor needed. Ignis saw a flicker of his gaze to the king’s hand, and saw his smile widening a hair.
“If you have no business with us, Chancellor,” Regis gestured to the door, “you are free to enjoy the sights of Insomnia on your way out.”
Bowing, two Crownsguard flanked the exit. The chancellor didn’t even spare them a glance. “Tsk tsk, Your Majesty. I’m hurt. After all, I just got here. Is this how Lucis welcomes messengers of peace?”
“Peace?” Regis didn’t try to hide his surprise, eyebrows shooting up almost comically. “You expect us to believe that after the Empire’s attack last week?”
“Attack?” The chancellor pretend to think, before snapping his fingers in sudden realization. “Ah, you must mean the incident with the little pet we took for a frolic. He simply got a bit too excited before we managed to rein him in.”
Ignis remembered the event – Niflheim had let loose a massive daemon that killed several Kingsglaive members and countless civilians, and nearly brought down the Wall that protected Insomnia. Little incident, indeed.
The king remembered as well; he stared, face an impassive mask. “And what’s to keep your… pet from becoming too excited again?”
The chancellor tilted his head back, and gave a long, full-bodied laugh that sent chills down Ignis's spine. “Why, our word, of course. Uh-uh-uh.” He lifted a hand and took a step closer. Ignis sensed the guards around him tensing; he himself was searching the Arsenal, ready to pull out his daggers at a moment’s notice. Ardyn ignored them all. “Hold your protests, Majesty. You are wondering how we can be trusted. The Emperor is old, and has known nothing but conflict his entire life. He wishes to bring an end to this war in his time. And thus, he extends the hand of peace.”
“Really. And his terms?”
The chancellor grinned. Ignis felt as if they’d stepped into a trap.
Maybe they had.
“Lucis will remain an independent kingdom, and the Empire will cease all hostilities against Lucian forces. In exchange,” and here, the grin widened, “Lucis must needs agree to cede all territories to the Niflheim in a peaceful exchange.”
Ignis could hear the collective gasp, the incredulous murmurs.
A full surrender. That was the demand. Insomnia, a shining, solitary bastion surrounded by the Empire that swallowed the world.
It was completely out of the question, and yet…
“That is not a decision I can make immediately.” Regis’s voice did not waver.
He did not refuse.
“No, no, of course not,” the chancellor said, nodding amicably. “We will give you time to think on our offer… But consider, Your Majesty. How long do you intend to hide behind your wall? How long until your strength runs out and it becomes your darling prince’s turn to bleed his life dry?”
Another hushed gasp around them. Anger flashed in the king’s eyes. “Enough! You overstep your boundaries, Chancellor. This audience is over.”
Ardyn made no move to leave. “Is it, now? I’m afraid I must take up a little more of Your Majesty’s time. There is one other condition I’d almost forgotten.” At the lack of an answer, he continued with a smile. “As a sign of our great nations’ union, we would have your son wed a vassal of Niflheim.”
Ignis felt his breath catch, a protest on the tip of his tongue, though he knew he had no right to it. Regis’s answer was quicker. “Noctis is not ready for such—“
“Ah, but isn’t he?” The chancellor gestured around him. “Lies are unbecoming, Your Majesty. There is no child born to nobility that doesn't learn to expect a political match. But don’t fret, we won’t force your one and only heir into wedlock with an… unsuitable candidate.”
Regis’s voice was cautious as he asked, “And what is your idea of a 'suitable' wife for my son?”
“As you know, the Emperor is old and childless. This is a matter of great consternation to him. However, he thinks of all the nations under the banner of Niflheim as his children. And as the father of so many, he has some… favourites, loath as he is to admit it. There is one princess the Emperor simply dotes upon. He thinks of her truly as his own daughter, albeit a rather… disobedient one. He would see her wed comfortably before the end of his time. As a father, I’m sure you simply cannot deny the heartfelt request of another father.”
“Enough of this charade, Izunia.” Regis stood, tall and broad, and the chancellor took an involuntary step back. Only Ignis knew the effort it must have taken.. “You and I both know your Emperor feels no such thing. Which pawn are you foisting on us?”
“Pawn? Foisting? You wound me, Your Majesty. I think you'll be rather pleased with this match. We would have your Prince Noctis wed the lovely Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Princess of Tenebrae. I believe you may be acquainted with her.”
“Lunafreya? What is the meaning of this?” Regis's question echoed the one in Ignis's mind, the one he did not dare ask. “What gain would it be to you to give us the Oracle?”
“None at all.” The chancellor's smile turned into the purr of a well-fed cat. “Think of it as a... gift, if you will, one of mine own devising. A symbol of goodwill and a promise of peace.” Ardyn turned, giving one last look over his shoulder. “But I believe my audience is long over. I mustn't overstay my welcome, after all. You will consider our proposal, won’t you, Your Royal Majesty?”
The king stared after his retreating back. “What are you after, Izunia? What is Aldercap after?”
“What is the Emperor after? Simple. Nothing but peace, and an end to this war.” The chancellor paused in the open doorway. “What am I after? …I wonder?”
As he left, he stopped in front of Ignis and shot him a smile that brought a shudder to his core. Only later did Ignis identify the feeling as fear, a deeper fear than he had ever felt. When he spoke, the words were soft, for his ears alone. “Ahh, Servant of the Stone. Do take care of your prince. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to our little groom-to-be.”
And then he was out. The heavy doors of the throne room shut behind the chancellor, Crownsguard escorts following him out. Ignis made to go with them.
“Ignis, hold.”
Ignis stopped and bowed. “Sire.”
The king gave him a weary smile. “I believe we were in a discussion about my son before our interruption.”
Ignis took a moment to look at the king, his guard dropped now without others around. He remembered once, when Regis Lucis Caelum was young and hale, when he had not lost access to the Armiger. When he was the most powerful man on Eos. There was still a shadow of that man before him. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Tell me, how is he doing now?”
Ignis allowed himself a small smile at thoughts of Noctis. “Noct is… Ah. Noctis is doing well. As Your Majesty is aware, he has been taking short internships with various councillors and ministers since his graduation, and is gradually coming to understand the scope of rule. His eating habits still leave much to be desired, but his organizational skills are improving. He has recently taken to spending much of his time at a hospital, running errands for strangers. Though I question the use of his time, I do not doubt the efficacy in building character and improving morale.” He trailed off when he realized the king was no longer listening. “Your Majesty?”
No answer. The king's eyes held a faraway look. Ignis tried again. “…Sire?”
Regis stared at him, through him, then shook his head. “I apologize, Ignis. My mind is not present, I’m afraid.”
Ignis gave another bow. “No apologies needed, Sire. Today’s meeting was… harrowing.”
“What is your opinion?”
“Majesty?”
There was a strange look on the king's face, a knowing half-smile. “Should I forsake my kingdom to spare one city? Or forge on and die like a brave idiot?”
Ignis hesitated. He knew what the question really meant. Should he betray the kingdom to save one prince? It seemed like a fool's question, and yet, when that prince was the King of Kings who would bring the dawn... “You have a duty to the Crystal, Your Majesty.”
The king sat still for so long, Ignis feared he'd become lost in thoughts again.
“Ignis.” When the king spoke again, his voice was full of resolution and resignation mixed. “Will you… bring the news to my son?”
“…Yes, Sire.”
“Protect him. He will need you, in the days to come.”
“Of course, Sire. With my life. I swear it.”