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Noctis comes to slowly, aware first of the bone-deep ache of his body. Everything hurts, and he sucks a breath in through his teeth as even the motion of his fingers aches. The second thing he notices is that he's in a bed, on soft sheets, and it's daylight. He sits up slowly, trying to break through the pain in his head enough to determine what's happened. Someone must have carried him here, taken off his boots, tucked him into bed. Healed him. Probably either Gladio or--
"Back with us?" Ignis taps his fingers on the side of the chair, then stands. "I'll tell the others, though it may take a bit."
He turns, and Noctis catches a glimpse of the scar spreading over his eyes behind dark glasses. "You're hurt!" he gasps, ignoring the way his lungs burn. It's nothing compared to what happened to-- to--
"A small sacrifice in the greater battle," Ignis says.
Noctis shivers as icy fingers close over his heart. ". . . and Luna?" He doesn't want to hear the answer, but he has to ask.
". . . she has passed," Ignis says, turning away.
***
"In exchange for a cease fire," Regis says, voice echoing in the audience chamber, "we'll surrender all the territories outside Insomnia." Noctis opens his mouth, but Regis holds up his hand to stop him. He continues, more quietly, "As part of the agreement, you are to marry Lady Lunafreya."
"I'll-- What?! W-- Why are we surrendering to them? How could you let them--" Noctis steps forward angrily, but Gladio grabs his arm and holds him back. He shrugs Gladio off, but stops moving.
"My son." Regis's voice is as steadfast as always, but there's a tremor there that's been building the last few years, as his body's started to fail. Noctis knows why they're surrendering, he just doesn't want to admit it. "There is no choice in the matter."
He looks at the floor, trying to control his reeling emotions. "And me marrying Luna? What does the Empire get out of that?" He's always known that his future probably included an arranged marriage, but somehow he hadn't expected it quite this soon.
"A symbol of the union between Lucis and Niflheim. A symbol of peace." Regis sighs. "I had hoped you would never be forced into a marriage, Noctis, but at least if it must happen it's to a friend." Noctis glares at the smooth marble. He feels Gladio and Ignis watching him with concern, but he ignores them. "The wedding will be held in Altissia. You're to depart next week."
Noctis opens his mouth but closes it again at Regis's expression. "Yes, Your Majesty," he says instead, gritting his teeth and bowing. He escapes as soon as he can, heart still racing crazily.
Gladio gives him a look as they leave, and Noct bites out, "Don't say it." He already knows what Gladio's going to say: You're the Prince of Lucis; time to start acting like it.
***
Noctis opens his hand slowly, afraid to look.
It wasn't a dream. The Ring of the Lucii sits in his palm, deceptively small, and it hits him like a fist to the gut: he is the King of Lucis. He's the King of Lucis, the King of Light, and he's not--
He's not ready.
He's not ready, not ready to be without his father, not ready to be without Luna, not ready to be a King or to put on the ring or to do any of this shit.
He doesn't know if he'll ever be ready.
***
The more he thinks about it, the more he thinks--
He cares about Lunafreya. He's cared about her since he was a child, as a friend, as the one other person who understands the weight of prophecy heavy on his shoulders. She's only ever been kind to him, and he's cherished the notebook they've sent back and forth over the years. If he has to marry, at least it's to someone he admires, and who is fond of him in return. He's always known she'd be by his side to meet his destiny -- it's what they'd promised each other in their youth.
Still, whenever Prompto or Gladio make insinuations about his wedding night, Noctis can't stop his cheeks from heating up. He hasn't seen Luna since the both of them were children, and it's hard to imagine her as a woman, much less a woman who he might . . . touch . . . in an intimate manner. He's seen photos of her, of course, and she's-- well, she's beautiful. But for now, he's okay with the fact that his mind changes subjects as soon as he gets too close to those sort of thoughts about his impending marriage.
***
"Umbra left that for you," Ignis says on his way out, and Noctis looks down at the notebook resting on the sheets.
He flips through the pages, rushing to find the last one, to find--
A pressed flower, a sylleblossom, and he can't hold it in anymore. Luna is gone. My prayers have been answered, she'd said. My calling fulfilled. He clenches his fist around the ring, then puts his other hand on top try to stop it from trembling.
It doesn't work. The tremor gets worse and a choked sob escapes his throat, then there are wet spots appearing on the paper in the notebook and tears are streaming down his cheeks. The only thing that had ever made him want to become the chosen king was the idea that if he did, he could save her from the darkness. She died so he could gain the blessing of the gods, and he's never felt less worthy of it. He's never felt less worthy of her.
***
There's plenty of time to think, on the road out of Insomnia. The wedding is approaching, and Noctis finds that it's getting easier to imagine being married to Luna. It's starting to feel real in a way that it hadn't before. Umbra brings him the notebook, and Noct finds that his fondness for Luna is growing and changing, now that they're communicating with not only the knowledge that they're tied together by prophecy, but the knowledge that they'll be sharing each other's lives in the most intimate way.
Sometimes, when the top is down on the Regalia and the wind is in his hair, he imagines walking hand in hand with her through the gardens of Tenebrae. He imagines standing with her on the balcony of his apartment and looking out over Insomnia, his arms around her waist and his chin on her shoulder. He imagines poring over arcane lore with her in the libraries, and the way she might smile at him if he started to nod off while she studied.
He no longer shies away from thinking about the wedding night. It's not that he thinks about it often, but when he does, it's starting to be less with trepidation and more with anticipation.
***
Noct's not sure how much time has passed when there's a knock at his door. He feels exhausted, completely wiped out, and his body still aches. His throat is still thick with tears. "Yeah," he calls, rubbing uselessly at his eyes with one arm.
"H-- Hey," Prompto says, poking his head inside. "You okay?"
Noctis sets the notebook on the table by the bed. He takes a shaky breath and doesn't look at Prompto. "I'm alive," he says.
"Yeah, stupid question, huh? Of course you're not okay." Prompto eases inside and closes the door behind him. "I'm . . . really sorry about Lady Lunafreya. I know she meant a lot to you."
Noctis clears his throat.. "Yeah. Something like that. Did Gladio bring me here?" he asks, trying to change the subject.
"What? Oh, oh yeah. I mean, I saw where you went down and pulled you out of the water, but yeah, Gladio carried you back here. He's, uh. I don't think you want to talk to him right now." Prompto walks over hesitantly, fiddling with his gloves in a nervous habit. Noctis opens his hand to show Prompto the ring. "Dude," Prompto breathes, glancing between Noct's hand and his face.
"Dunno what Gladio has to be angry with me for this time," he mutters. "I got Leviathan's power and I got the ring. It's not like Gladio even knew--" Noctis swallows and clenches his fist, looking away as he shoves the ring into his pocket. "Thanks for pulling me out of the water," he says after he manages to get control of his throat again. Prompto smiles at him, but Noct can't quite bring himself to return it.
***
The dress is beautiful. Long and elegant and refined, and Noctis can't help thinking about what might have been. What could have been. His wedding to Lunafreya, her in that dress, him dressed in finery -- a symbol of peace, they'd said, but also a union that would have her with him as he walked forward into his destiny.
"Real glad for you that Lady Lunafreya is safe and sound," Prompto says, and Noct replies, "Yeah." He is glad, but he doesn't know if he'll quite believe it until she's standing in front of him.
He can't help thinking that maybe, if he can complete the rite and gain Leviathan's power, maybe he can take Luna away from here. Maybe, somehow, he can still marry her. It's a thing he's been thinking of since the fall of Lucis, but now he's overcome by a fantasy of stealing her dress from the display, whisking her away from the imperial soldiers, and taking her with him to complete his quest for the rest of the royal arms, not just as the Oracle but as his wife.
It's foolishness, and he knows it, but apparently he's not the only one thinking it.
"Well, that settles it," Gladio says, "you gotta make it happen. Become a symbol of the peace. After we tie up all the loose ends, let's think about the ceremony."
"A fine idea," Ignis adds.
"Yeah." Noctis stares at the gown. It looks soft, like the fabric would slide smoothly under his fingers. "I'll think about it."
***
"So. What now?"
"I don't know. I don't know if I can do this without her, Prompto." Noctis looks down at where his toes are curling around the soft sheets. He doesn't like to talk about his feelings, doesn't like to seem . . . weak. But he feels lost, a ship cut off from its anchor, and Prompto is the only one who's here to be his friend, not because he's the-- the king. "She was the only one who understood. The only one who always believed in me."
Prompto sits down next to him on the bed. Noctis can see him wringing his hands out of the corner of his eye. "I believe in you," he says quietly.
"She made me feel like I could do anything,” he confesses. “I wanted to do it all, for her." He bites his lip as a tremor runs through his body, something on the verge of breaking inside him. The comforting weight of Prompto's arm settles around his shoulders, and Noctis leans into him. "I couldn't reach her," he says, hand stretching out in front of him as it had then. "In the water, I couldn't, I couldn't--"
His hand closes on nothing, and another shudder ripples up his spine. His cheeks are wet. "I loved her," he whispers. "I didn't realize-- I didn't realize how much."
Prompto's other arm comes around him, and he pulls Noctis close. "I know," Prompto whispers, rubbing soothing circles into his back. "I know." Noctis tries to choke back his emotion, but it breaks like a dam, flooding out of him in ugly sobs.
Noctis grieves, not just for what he had with Luna, but for what might have been had she lived. For quiet laughter and tender smiles; for the feel of her hand in his. For all the things he'll never know about her. For all the things he'll never get to say.
"I know," Prompto says, and Noctis clings to him and weeps.