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It was dawn, and Ignis was grateful to see the sun rise for yet one more day. He already knew there would come a time when it wouldn’t, when the night would rule eternal and the daemons that came with the dark would spread like the plague they were.
These mornings Ignis had come to cherish, because he was never alone.
Every sunrise was a gift, not for the light itself that broke free from the confines of the horizon to bathe their camp in the warmth that would soon vanish from the world - but for the person he shared them with.
Throughout his years of study in the citadel, throughout pouring over every old text he could find in his search for a scrap of hope; he’d found naught but ill tidings of the future. The prophecies held no mentions of mercy for the King of Kings, for Noctis whom he’d dedicated his entire life to serving, and so Ignis would take every dawn he could get until there was no more.
For all his genius and all the knowledge he’d accumulated for the sole reason of making Noct’s life easier: he hadn’t come up with a way to outsmart the Astrals or the divine. Noct’s life would be one of the hardest in the end, and every day Ignis woke with that sombre realisation there at the forefront of his mind, and every day that pill grew more bitter to swallow than the last.
It was getting more difficult to maintain composure as the days went on, as they traveled towards a future that Noct wouldn’t be apart of. There were moments in that ominous gloom before dawn where his thoughts were just as dark, because in his selfishness that went far beyond the line of prince and advisor he could readily admit that he’d sooner doom the world to save Noct instead. But it was Noctis Lucis Caelum, he would do as he saw fit like he always did, in life and even in death.
So instead he used those first few waking moments to collect himself for the day ahead. Outside the boundaries of the haven that was their campsite, daemons still lurked in the dark. Ignis could always hear their incessant baying as they hunted whatever unfortunate creature hadn’t found shelter before nightfall. The scrape of taloned feet, the sickly growl of an unnatural pest, the threatening whine of a magitek carrier in the distance- Ignis heard them all before the sun came up. And each day he’d repair his resolve anew so he could forge on at Noct’s side until the end.
It was all routine after that, he’d process it all and the ache in his heart would follow; he’d make coffee for two in the crisp morning air and sit in his camping chair to wait for the sun - and for something else.
The reason Noct slept so much in the car was because every morning when the glow was just creeping up onto the edge of the world, when the coffee was hot and when Ignis had just sat down: Noct roused himself to join him. Just like he had this morning.
It was peace and melancholy in the same morning chilled breath. By the sound of bare footsteps and the yawn that came after the zipping up of the tent flap, Ignis knew it was him. It was always him, and it was always a struggle not to turn in his creaky camping chair that rocked on the uneven ground so he could see Noct for one extra second of the day.
Yesterday had been fraught with fighting, unit after unit of magitek troopers had found them on the road, they were all exhausted, none more so than Noct from the toll that magic demanded of his body. And yet he was still up at the same time for their usual morning routine, it was this that Ignis was grateful for.
Ignis listened to the footsteps one by one, he heard them grow closer until Noct walked into view beside him. This was the best and worst part always, because Noct walked to the edge of their camping platform to look off into the distance as light claimed the sky. There was no telling if Noct was looking at the beginning or the end as he stood there - the beginning of a new world, or the end of this one. Ignis only knew he was looking forward like his father taught him.
And if only Regis could see his son now, because from this angle Noct looked every part king and every part saviour of the world that a piece of Ignis didn’t want him to be. Even with his bed hair and his scruffy sleeping clothes Noct held his head high, his jaw set firm, his shoulders straight. His regal silhouette striking as the sun inched higher into the sky. Ignis knew that Noct was truly someone worthy of being called ‘Your Majesty.’
Silence blanketed the camp, time stood still for those few breaths of peace, and the world belonged to them. Solace came with the sun, it came in knowing that these mornings meant just as much to Noct as they did to him, because without a word Noct turned and offered him a sleepy smile with his endless blue eyes brighter than the dawn at his back.
He took the coffee that Ignis had waiting for him with a nod of thanks, and then the rightful King of Lucis sat cross legged on the ground in between Ignis’ feet to face the sun once more.
So with a hand playing in Noct’s hair and a coffee in the other, with Noct resting his head against Ignis’ knee; they sat and watched another dawn together.
It was this light that Ignis wanted to remember touching his face when the real night came, when the world fell to ruin; because he knew that whenever the sun rose on the other side of that ruin, that Noct wouldn’t.
Then he would spend dawn alone, and Ignis would prefer it still be dark.