Chapter Text
Sounds of rushing water and distant words of farewell echoed through Noctis’ mind as he struggled to pry his eyes open, wincing at the sunlight that assaulted him. His head hurt, his throat felt like it had a vice around it. Where was he? He could blurrily see a figure sat across the room. Blinking to regain some focus, he recognised the back of Ignis’ head.
His lips parted to speak, to catch Ignis’ attention - a small choked noise escaped his throat as a pain stabbed through it. A hand shakily meeting his throat, he felt coarse material wrapped around his neck. His breathing hitched, sending another burst of pain across his throat, constricting his breath even more as his half-conscious mind raced.
What was happening? Why couldn’t he speak? Oh gods, something was wrong—
“Are you back with us, Noct?”
The voice snapped Noctis out of his panicked thoughts, but the pain lingered. Shuffling back weakly to sit further upright, he watched wide-eyed as Ignis cautiously rose from his chair, seemingly unsure of himself as he stood. As the advisor turned around, the scarring on his face became obvious, even behind his darkened glasses. Noct tried to say something, to ask if he was alright. Nothing came out. Why wasn’t any sound coming out?!
“Noct, I'm going to need you to stay calm,” Ignis said, his voice as composed as ever. “I’m afraid there is quite a lot to take in.”
It took an agonising few minutes before Ignis finally reached the bed, the rising dread in Noct’s chest only increasing further as pieces slowly began to fit together. Ignis’ injuries, the far too cautious way he approached. He could feel something in his left hand—no, he couldn’t look. He couldn’t bring himself confirm what he thought it was. He needed to focus on something else. Anything else. At the sight of Ignis’ arm reaching out for assurance, the prince placed a hand on it, guiding Ignis’ own hand to the arm of a chair that waited beside his bed. The advisor let out a breath as he settled into his seat.
It was getting increasingly difficult for Noct to remain calm, as he took in the newly formed scarring on Ignis’ face. So many questions bubbled in his mind, but for some reason he couldn’t even ask .
“Noct,” Ignis finally said, turning his head to where he’d guessed the prince’s general direction was. “I must ask you this, and I’m sorry for being so blunt. Are you able to talk?”
Noctis tried, really he did. But the strangled wheeze—followed by a fit of coughing as he hunched forward—would be considered a laughable attempt at speech by anyone. Ignis’ hand found his back, rubbing it gently as Noct heaved in air through his burning throat.
“As we’d feared.” Ignis lowered his hand once more, a deeper frown settling on his face. “The injuries you sustained were quite severe, so I’ve been informed. But you took a particularly serious blow to your neck.” Noct’s hand went back to the material around his throat, fingers running carefully over it—bandages. “The prognosis is that you should recover, given a few weeks, but until then, please try to take things easy.”
Noct nodded to himself, instantly regretting it as his neck jabbed with pain once more. He looked up at Ignis, studying the scars on the man’s face, raising a trembling hand and hesitantly placing the lightest touch near the damage. Ignis’ hand rose to meet his, guiding it away.
“A small sacrifice in the greater battle,” he tried to assure the prince, though it did little to ease his mind. There was a pause as Ignis seemed to be considering his words. “I’m…afraid all I must tell you shall not be pleasant. Please, forgive me.”
It had been a lot to take in. Luna was dead, Ignis had been blinded, and much of Altissia lay in ruins. Noctis couldn’t understand—the whole thing had seemed an assured victory. He’d meet with Luna and they could take on the remaining trials and defeat the empire together, just like it was supposed to be. How had things gone so wrong? Blinking hard against the lingering images from last night’s less than pleasant series of dreams, he tried to suppress a yawn as he continued studying the scarring on his throat in the bathroom mirror.
It had only been a few days since he’d woken up, completely unaware of the resultant chaos around him, and merely hours since he’d had the uncomfortable bandages wrapped securely around his throat removed. All he’d wanted was to stay put in his room, alone with his thoughts and nothing to bother him, but Ignis had other ideas. He’d pestered Noct into visiting one of the available doctors to get an update on his condition, insisting he take Gladio or Prompto with him. As much as he’d loathed to wander through the broken streets of Altissia to get to the hospital, he couldn’t have refused his advisor the request.
Damnit though, did Ignis have to always be so on the ball looking out for him? Surely he had much bigger issues to worry about—it boggled the mind how he was still so focused on everyone but himself.
Noct’s frown deepened. He hadn’t seen the other two for hours, so had decided to go it alone. But, as he continued to muse in front of the mirror, that brought about another problem; how would he even tell Ignis any updates? Sure, he could text Prompto, but the whole thing seemed like too much of a hassle.
Especially when he’d received the same prognosis as Ignis had passed onto him merely days before. Assessed as ‘fine’, and instructed on vocal techniques to help with the recovery process and easing the pain.
Deep breaths, in and out. That was the main one he would practise for the moment. He’d admit that was something he’d become more lax on, even moreso when breathing deep would set off a coughing bout. It couldn’t be helped though—he’d been told breathing problems were expected, alongside issues with eating and drinking. The first time he’d started choking while eating bread with soup, he thought Ignis was going to have a heart attack.
But he shouldn’t complain, he knew it was wrong to. The people of Altissia were suffering, his own friends were suffering, the people of Eos would live in fear of the scourge without their Oracle.
Having no voice was nothing really—he’d got off lightly. Ignis’ unseeing eyes were proof of that.
“Noct? You in here?” The prince jumped a little at the sound of the familiar voice, leaving the bathroom to see Prompto closing the door behind him, a paper bag in hand. The blond grinned at the sight of his friend, but something about it seemed so forced. He missed Prompto’s genuine smiles, but there wasn’t exactly much to smile about lately. “Sorry, I sent you a message. Guess you were busy though.” He held up the bag. “See? I brought snacks!” Taking a seat on the bed, he began to rummage through everything as Noct sat beside him, watching. “I kinda bought a bit of everything—wasn’t really sure what you wanted,” he added sheepishly.
Noct couldn’t help but smile at his friend; Prompto had been an absolute blessing these past few days. How he’d managed to help both himself and Ignis out so much without having some double hiding around somewhere was a question for the ages. As he pondered the thought, a small stab of guilt ran through him—was Prompto getting enough time for himself? Was he sleeping okay? Eating right? Had those bags always been under his eyes—he couldn’t remember. He mentally cursed himself as he opened his mouth to ask, the sting in his throat halting him instantly. Thankfully, Prompto didn’t seem to notice.
“Okay, so…” The blond pulled out a couple of small packets. “I picked up cheese chips. You want some?” Noct shook his head quite decidedly, pulling a face. Prompto looked surprised at the response. “I thought you liked them.” Noct simply replied by pointing to his throat. “Oh yeah, they’re kinda sharp. Not good. Right…”
He set them aside and pulled out something else. “Chocolate’s good though, right?” He smiled as Noct nodded and handed one over, sighing contentedly as he pulled out a fruit bar for himself. “I brought some cake, too. Don’t tell Iggy though, he’d flip if he fou—oh shit ! I’m sorry!” He practically squeaked as he covered his mouth his with hands.
Noct, quite unperturbed, picked up his phone and typed out something, watching as Prompto’s phone buzzed, a message lighting up the screen.
[It’s ok, nbd]
Prompto looked back to the prince. “A-are you sure? I mean, that was kind of a really low blow—since you can’t tell Iggy anything right now—I swear I didn’t mean it that way though! Oh man, I’m just making this worse aren’t I? I mean, I just— mmffpphh! ” He was cut off as Noctis covered his friend’s mouth with his hand, before pointing to the text message once more. Prompto shoved the hand aside, an indignant look on his face. “Okay, fine .” He sighed, continuing to eat his fruit bar. “I’m still sorry though,” he added, voice muffled as he chewed.
Noctis ate his own bar slowly, mulling things over in his mind. The last few days hadn’t even felt real. So, so much was wrong, so much rested on his shoulders to fix, and yet there was, practically kicking back and relaxing in the place he’d held a part in demolishing, with barely a moment alone long enough for everything to crash down upon him. The others made sure he was eating, drinking, taking care of himself.
They were amazing, but he couldn’t help but thinking how much everyone else needed their help so much more. The strange thought crossed his mind that if he hadn’t been injured, everyone would have most likely let him be, closed up in his own little bubble as he refused to accept the days passing, just wanting to work out the slew of emotions built up within him—to make some meagre sense of it all.
But, he was injured, missing a piece of himself, just like Ignis was. Granted, not as big a piece, but something he wished to return, just so things could feel remotely normal again, so he could at least try to be the king the others sorely needed him to be.
How he would manage that, however, he had no clue. And time was running out for finding the answers.
“You okay, Noct?” Shit, how long had he zoned out for? Nodding noncommittally, he frowned as Prompto nudged at the phone in Noct’s hand. “Come on, type to me bro. Ignis said you’d got your throat checked out today, right? Did Gladio go with you?” The prince began to type as Prompto waited patiently.
[Couldn’t find him. Went by myself]
Prompto pulled a face. “You’re still recovering dude, you really shouldn’t go it alone.” Noct rolled his eyes at his friend’s fretting. “So, what did they say?”
[Said it’s fine, whatever that means. They gave me some exercises and that was it]
“So...how were they , then?” Prompto kept a close eye on Noct’s expression, his brows pinching in concern as his friend scowled, pausing before he responded.
It wouldn’t have been considered difficult by any means, had his throat not felt like it had just been mauled by a sabretusk. Some sound did come out, but it’s nothing anyone would have called actual speech. Apparently that had been the expected response, which was...good?
[Ok I guess?]
The blond cast him a long look, and Noct gave him an exaggerated eye roll.
[I still can’t say anything yet, if that’s what you’re wondering]
Prompto couldn’t help but let his smile falter for just a second. He knew it was naive to expect progress straight away, but he’d still been hoping for an odd word or two. “Well, these things take time, right? They said weeks, not days, after all.”
Did they even have weeks before Camelia Claustra decided her hospitality had stretched far enough? After all, it was because of his rite that Leviathan needed to be woken in the first place. The people of Altissia probably saw Noctis and his group as some kind of ill omen or something.
With the way things had gone, he was pretty sure they were right.
[Where are the others anyway?]
Noct was desperate to change the subject.
“Gladio’s with Ignis at the hospital right now. It’s just a check up, don’t worry.” Prompto nudged him reassuringly. “Sorry bud, you’re stuck with me for now,” he added with a smirk. Noct let out a tiny snort of amusement.
[Did you see me complaining?]
Prompto laughed as Noct grinned—the most genuine he’d seen in a while—even if it was for just a moment. All too quickly, it was gone again as he let out a breath, glancing distastefully at his phone.
[I swear I’ve turned into carbuncle or something]
It took the blond a second to realise what Noctis meant. “Wait, you mean your fuzzy little dream friend?” Noct nodded.
[He can only talk through my phone. Idk how it doesn’t drive him crazy, this is so annoying]
“You’ll get used to it. It’s only until your voice is all better, right?” A nagging feeling itched at the back of Noct’s mind as the words were spoken, but he nodded again anyway. “Oh yeah, we still got cake to eat!” Prompto pulled out a couple of napkins, grinning as he handed Noct a particularly delicious looking piece of sponge cake. “Don’t eat it too quick, Iggy’ll kill me if I let you choke.” Noct sent Prompto a quick ‘thanks’ text before taking the cake and digging in. The gunner’s smile was bittersweet as he watched his friend. Things would get better, he was sure of it. And until then, he’d just have to be extra careful to watch over everyone.
It would all turn out fine in the end. It had to.
“On your feet, you’re getting lunch out with us today.”
Gladio’s tactics were forward as always, and usually the prince would complain and dig his heels in further, but today...today he was pretty sure he needed it. It had been a pretty awful night, filled with visions of the rite, but somehow worse . A dream world where he had been the only survivor, a solitary king against the might of the empire. Waking up to an empty room—silent cries alerting no one—only made it seem all the more real .
Noctis hauled himself to his feet, pocketing his phone as a lifeline as he moved to grab his boots and jacket. Gladio cast his eyes around the room, eventually settling on a particular object on Noct’s bedside table. “Still keeping that notebook close, huh?” he said casually, noting Noct’s body language as he tensed slightly at the mention. The prince glanced up, nodding slowly as he laced up his boot. “And the ring?”
Noct knew that question was coming up. He pointed to his jacket pocket, ignoring the way Gladio’s expression soured somewhat before sighing. “Well, at least it’s safe,” he said dismissively as he continued to wait.
They met with Prompto and Ignis in the foyer, and soon they were on their way to one of the few eateries that were still operational. As Noct sat at the table, chin rested on his palm, idly tapping on the table, Ignis quizzed Prompto over the menu, deciding the best food for Noct to eat. There he went again, not even thinking about himself. How could he just get on with things like that?
Then again, he was one to talk. He’d been frequently using his vocal exercises as a distraction from everything. He had no choice but to focus on getting better, to focus on being stronger , even if that meant shoving his cacophony of thoughts down and hoping they wouldn’t resurface for a long while.
Maybe Ignis was doing the same thing.
“—kay with you dude? Hello?” A hand waved in front of his face and he jumped, looking up at Prompto’s worried face. “You feeling alright, buddy?”
He nodded. It was pretty much the best he could do at this point. Although he had had a pretty good day with his voice so far, all things considered. A couple of days after his first therapy session and he’d managed a couple of words—even if it hurt like hell—before his voice choked off.
“Ignis wanted to check if the burger was okay with you,” he repeated, pointing at it on the menu. Noct took in a deep breath. It was a good day, he could do this.
“Y...y-eah,” he said, wincing at the horrid torn feeling as the quiet word came out. The other three froze. Prompto looked dumbfounded.
“Noct? Did you just...?” The prince couldn’t help but smile weakly at the response as he rubbed at his neck. Damnit, that really hurt, but it was worth it. Gladio clapped a hand on his back in approval.
“It’s good to hear your voice again, Noct,” Ignis said, a warm smile on his face.
The atmosphere around them seemed to shift somewhat as they ate—true, everything was still pretty awful, but for the first time in the week or so since he woke up, it was some kind of improvement.
They’d take that as a small victory.
It turned out three and a half weeks was the limit to the first secretary’s hospitality. It was getting increasingly obvious as the days passed that she was eager for them to leave her city, and preparations to secure them safe passage to Niflheim were progressing along. Noctis had been invited for an audience later that day to discuss arrangements. Ignis had been more than insistent on going with him to assist; even though he was most qualified to handle someone of such an important position, it didn’t sit right with him one bit.
By now, he should have been able to handle it on his own. That’s what the doctors had said, right? So then why was he still having so much difficulty speaking more than a few short words at a time?
The others had demanded he go for another check up before the meeting. Noct didn’t even see the point, but he found it pointless to argue. Prompto had taken Ignis for an examination of his own, leaving Gladio for company. His presence put Noctis on edge; Gladio seemed to be fast becoming less and less patient with the prince’s condition with each passing day. There should have been a more noticeable improvement by now...right?
The doctor asked his usual questions, trying to pry a spoken response out of him. Noct was close to grabbing his phone and typing out the responses. His throat hurt worse than usual from trying to cry out after a particularly harrowing nightmare—he was tired and just didn’t want to deal with the usual shtick of managing a couple of words before hacking his lungs out, ending with them prematurely calling it a day.
The doctor looked over Noct’s shoulder to Gladio, who was stood back, arms folded. “Have you noticed any positive changes at all?” he asked, ignoring Noct’s discomfort as he twisted the prince’s head this way and that to examine his neck.
“No changes. Sorry to disappoint.” Noct shrunk in on himself slightly as the doctor’s frown deepened. The word ‘disappoint’ seemed to be popping up more in conversation lately when related to his recovery, and it was starting to wear him down. He didn’t mean to disappoint anyone—every sound he made still hurt, and besides the exercises, it was just less painful to stay quiet, even if it was inconvenient.
He’d made a mistake by speaking that day in the cafe, he just knew it. Now everyone had expectations that he’d be fine; in truth, any improvement he’d made since that day was negligible. The doctor shone a torch down his throat, scribbling down some notes before turning his attention back to the prince. “And you, Highness?” Noct went to shake his head, then paused. No, he needed to say something. What was the point in them taking the time to help him if he never showed anything for it. He drew in a deep breath, remembering what he’d been taught to make things easier.
“St-ill h-urts…” He doubled over slightly at the renewed pain that flared. His hand reached up to his neck as he fought to keep his breath from catching in his throat. This really was the best he could do, even after a month of recovery. Damnit . He grit his teeth in frustration. “S...s-orry…”
“It’s quite alright,” the man replied, leaning back in his seat. “I appreciate your effort. Thank you.”
It was almost infuriating how polite and patient the man was. How was he not angry at the lack of progress?! Noct attempted to speak again, to at least acknowledge the man’s words, but it hurt too much to make anything more than a tiny croak. The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder.
“So, I’ve been informed this may very well be our last chance to check up on you. You’ll just have to keep running through the exercises I’ve given you, I’m afraid.” He flipped through his notes, looking to Noctis once more. “Did you want to go over them again?”
Noct shook his head. He’d already committed them to memory since his second session, practising them daily, for as little good as they seemed to be doing. He dreaded to think how bad he’d be without them if this was the best it could do now.
He could feel the disappointment radiating behind him from his shield; he didn’t want to deal with failing further by struggling with his exercises right now.
“Very well. I wish there were more we could do. Best of luck, Highness.” The doctor extended his hand, and Noctis shook it as firmly as he could.
“You hit some kind of stumbling block or something? Sounded like you could’ve done with going over those techniques again,” Gladio said offhandedly as he closed the door behind them. Noct let out a breath—intended to be a sigh—as he pulled out his phone and typed. Gladio found his phone as the message sent.
[Already know them]
“Uh-huh. Just make sure you’re actually doing them, then.” The accusatory tone in the shield’s voice stabbed through him. Noct scowled, choosing not to snipe back. It wasn’t worth it. Putting his phone away, he shoved his hands into his pockets as they walked in silence for a while. That was, what, maybe the third time Gladio had heard him speak since he woke up a month ago? He sure must’ve been happy to hear that pathetic attempt. Even Prompto had only heard him a few times, trying to coax words from him by pointing out strange slogans on food packaging for him to read out loud. The idea was appreciated, but exhausting. The past couple weeks he had decided it was easier not to talk; he really didn’t want the others to realise he’d reached his peak so soon in his recovery.
“So, you’re meeting with the first secretary in about half an hour, right?” Gladio asked, checking his phone for the time. Noct nodded, pulling his phone out once more—to the disdain of the shield—texting to Prompto and deliberately keeping his line of sight as far from the damage around them as possible as they made their way through the city streets.
He couldn’t wait to get out of this place, to try and clear his mind of everything that had happened. Right now, however, he just wanted to get away from the citizens’ stares and comments that followed him as he passed them by.
It was quiet as Noctis and Ignis waited to be called in. Well, almost quiet. The offbeat tapping of Noct’s boots echoed throughout the corridor. The speed changed alongside Noct’s own breathing—Ignis didn’t need to see his charge’s face to know the level of apprehension that hung over him.
“All will be well, Noct. I assure you.” The tapping stopped as Noctis look to Ignis, dumbfounded. It baffled him how he could say something as optimistic as that. He was blind , for crying out loud!
By this point, Noctis was certain there was a lot his advisor was holding back about his sudden disability—trying to relearn things that were once second nature, multiple doctors check ups much like his own, and all while remaining his usual composed, rational self. Noct hadn’t seen him anywhere near as much as he should have done, but he’d heard from Prompto not long before that Ignis’ prognosis was not looking good, and the prince knew it was troubling him. He wanted to ask, he wanted to know . ‘Talk to me anytime, I’m here to listen, I’m here to help ,’ he wanted to say more than anything. Was this why Gladio had declined to wait with them? Noct would have no choice but to talk when he was alone with Ignis, but he just couldn’t .
He carefully studied the scars on Ignis’ face, looking away as his stomach turned at the particularly noticeable injuries around his eyes. Perhaps if he’d been strong enough to save Luna, she could have healed him and—
His heart ached at the thought of Luna, but he forced in back with a deep breath. He couldn’t get wrapped up in that again. Not right now. Not when Ignis was right there, alive , and needed support. Noct’s hand balled into a fist, before it relaxed as he raised it up to place on Ignis’ shoulder. It was a simple gesture that Ignis had done many a time to help reassure and ground his prince. He hoped more than anything Ignis understood the thought behind it.
Judging by the smile of the advisor’s face, gentle as he placed a hand over Noct’s own, it was.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. Noct felt warmth from the words. “And have faith. We’ve come this far and survived—doubtless we shall overcome whatever might lie in our way.”
The prince closed his eyes, thinking over the words. Ignis had such faith—he couldn’t understand where it all came from.
Although it wasn’t like they had a choice to halt their journey. As a young assistant stepped through the door to invite them in at last, it became even more painfully clear that they were fast hurtling towards their next move, whether either of them were okay or not.
“We have secured travel for you, once you reach Niflheim shores. However, arrangements for passing the borders while keeping your status private have been...cumbersome. I’m afraid it will cost you.”
Noct looked suspicious at the words. They’d only been speaking for a short time, and it seemed the first secretary wanted to get straight to the point.
“And those costs would be?” Ignis asked, his voice even as he mentally dissected her tone of voice for anything suspicious. He knew she loved her people deeply, and was indeed a woman of her word, but circumstances had changed quite a bit since their arrangements for dealing with the Hydrean.
“Let us just say that I hope you have adequate funds at your disposal.” Camelia leant forward, elbows rested on her desk. “There is nothing I can offer you on that front—our resources must remain with the broken lives of the people of Altissia. I’m sure you can understand.”
“Of course,” Ignis said with a nod.
“But,” she continued. “I’m afraid the offer has not been extended to heavier cargo. Your vehicle, for example, will have to remain in our care.”
“N-no...y-ou ca-n’t!”
Ignis and Camelia were startled to attention as Noct had moved forward from his seat, hands planted on the table. She regarded the prince carefully before leaning back. “The first I hear you speak since the rite, and it is out of love for your father’s car. It must be quite precious to you.”
Noct nodded somewhat shakily before slumping back down, a hand subconsciously reaching up to his neck. Damnit, he really shouldn’t have done that, but he couldn’t leave the Regalia behind!
Ignis was stunned for a moment. He hadn’t heard the prince speak in what must have been two weeks now. Prompto had assured him he was still working hard with his recovery, but to hear his voice now—so pained, so broken —was the damage really so extensive that he was still struggling so much, even now?
Pushing his darkened glasses further up his nose, his expression became one of composure once more. “Noct, I understand your distress, but we must be reasonable.”
“No, it’s quite alright,” Camelia said, lacing her fingers together, her face unreadable. “I shall see what I can do. I’m afraid such a request shall prove even more costly, however.” She focused on Noct. “I take it that this is acceptable?”
Noctis merely nodded. He knew he was asking far more than he had any right to, but after everything else, he couldn’t leave the last piece he had of his dad behind.
“Very well. I’ll send word and arrange what I can,” she said, standing to approach them. “I wish you safe travels, King Noctis.”
“We are indebted to you for all your aid. You have our thanks,” Ignis spoke with a bow. Noct shook her hand, joining Ignis in bowing slightly in thanks—a strange gesture from royalty, but better than staying silent—and guided the advisor out of the room.
It was a few minutes of walking before Ignis finally spoke.
“That was...quite the display, Noct,” he said, still somewhat taken back as he altered the grip on his cane. He’d only received it a couple of weeks prior, and learning how to properly utilise it was proving quite the learning curve.
Noct looked around sheepishly, hand tensing on Ignis’ back as he guided him. He’d sounded like a petulant child before the first secretary. All things considered, she should have outright refused him such a request. He was just thankful she’d humoured him. He let out a breath; Ignis wouldn’t be able to see his response, but he needed to apologise.
“S...s-or—” Ow , that hurt. A few small coughs left him, and he could feel Ignis’ hand on his back.
“There’s no need to apologise,” he said gently. “As blunt as the delivery may have been, we shall still have the Regalia with us. I would call that a success.” Ignis paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully. “I…take it that using your voice still pains you, somewhat.” It was an obvious statement, and to the point as expected, but Noctis still found something much gentler to it than Gladio’s increasingly biting tone. He mentally thanked the advisor. “You’re doing well Noct. I’m sure you will recover soon.” Noctis’ attention drew to the apprehensive frown that betrayed Ignis’ optimism. It hurt to see him so unsure, so helpless compared to his old self. But without words, there was little he could do to offer his support.
As they carried on to meet the others, there was much buzzing through Noct’s mind. There was so much more he wanted to apologise to Ignis for, besides his childish tantrum. Hopefully that would wait until he could finally say the words for himself.
They met up with Prompto and Gladio outside of the ministerial building. Prompto immediately bombarded the prince with questions; an arm draped around his shoulders, eagerly awaiting each of Noct’s noncommittal responses from his phone about the meeting as they walked ahead. Gladio grumbled under his breath.
“Something troubling you?” Ignis asked discreetly.
“I swear, he’s never gonna get better if he doesn’t try saying anything.”
So, Noct was on his phone again. It was no real surprise—from the way he had sounded during the meeting, it seemed like he had resorted to relying on his phone for conversation. True, it was an excellent idea, but no real substitute for actually speaking; especially when he himself couldn’t read the messages.
“This hasn’t been easy for him, Gladio, what with the rite causing such damage and Lady Lunafreya’s passing, among everything else.” There was a hell of a lot lumped into the ‘everything else’, but none of it beared repeating. “Surely you know that,” he added with a sigh.
“And that’s a good enough reason to keep avoiding it?”
Gladio had a point. Ignis wanted to tell him to give Noct more time. But time had already passed—beyond the original prognosis—and from what he could tell, the prince’s condition hadn’t improved since the first week or so...and neither had Ignis’. It left a heavy feeling in his stomach; they didn’t have time for all this—didn’t have time to deal with two of their party members handicapped—they needed to collect the royal arms and face the empire. Together . They’d...just have to make do. “Let’s just support him however we can.” Gladio remained silent, continuing to watch Noctis from behind as they carried on walking back to the hotel.
Time was passing too quickly. Noct cursed himself for wanting to leave Altissia and the horrid memories of what transpired there behind; as their day of departure drew near, he sorely needed more time. As the days inched on, he could feel a bubble of panic well up gradually within him.
Deep breaths. Just breathe. Focus on the exercises, just like always.
Breathe .
Eventually, everything felt like it had settled, even if it was just a little. He coughed a couple of times, hoping to clear his lungs, trying to ignore the twinge in his throat as he yawned. He felt exhausted—the few days leading up to their departure day had somehow felt more awful than before. He wasn’t even sure how much sleep he’d managed to get; closing his eyes lately only resulted in nightmares he’d rather not think about.
He was somewhat accustomed to the nightmares that quite often manifested at night by now; of the rite, of Insomnia’s fall, of the people who got hurt— or died —because of him. But starting just a few nights before, things were so much different. It was as if someone had taken every anxiety, every fear and doubt in his mind, and given them life as twisted images unfolding before his eyes. He had stepped out onto the balcony, hoping the fresh air would help soothe his mind. He had no such luck.
Before, he was able to tune out his dreams of times past. But these new visions were of the future, of events yet to come, events he had to face. His friends’ mutilated bodies lay dead upon the ground. The most important people left in his life, captured. Tortured. Killed . Throwing their lives away in the name of a king who couldn’t even scream out their names as they left him alone, the world upon his shoulders.
In a few hours, they would be setting sail, ready to face the empire.
He wanted to be ready. He feared he never would be.
Pacing back inside the room briefly to pick up his and Luna’s notebook, he resumed his seat overlooking the waters, bracing himself as he opened the book to the first blank page, swallowing painfully as he caught sight of the sylleblossom that lay pressed within its pages.
He held the pen in his hand, poised over the page. He needed to talk about this somehow—to try and let his thoughts escape. Maybe...if he wrote it as a letter to Luna? It seemed like such a silly idea. ‘Hi Luna, I know you’re dead and all, but I’ve been going through some stuff.’ Noct let out a silent sigh at the thought. Who was he kidding, he was never good at writing down his thoughts. In twelve years, he couldn’t figure out how to even start writing down his confusing muddle of emotions to the young Oracle. How was he supposed to manage it now?
He tried, again and again, over the course of a few hours, scribbling out each attempt, wishing he could just yell and vent some of his frustration— any of it. It didn’t matter how many pages he wasted in inky scribbles now anyway, it wasn’t like there would be any more messages from his childhood friend waiting for him inside. He stalled at the thought, before continuing in vain, eventually retiring back to his bed to attempt sleep once more before the others woke up.
Prompto and Noctis sat in the foyer, waiting for Ignis and Gladio. The blond regarded his friend quietly, watching him play a mobile game he’d recommended a couple of months back. It was a good simple game to play, especially if your head felt a little spacey. And judging by the tired look in the prince’s eyes and the sluggish attack responses as he tapped the screen, it was exactly the kind of game he needed.
He racked his brain to think of what could be wrong—aside from the obvious—but came up short. He could only conclude that things had slowly declined within the prince since his meeting with the first secretary. Had something been said? He’d have to ask Ignis about it.
But on that worried note, was he sleeping okay? Prompto had noticed his appetite had lessened the past few days, maybe he was nervous? Would he admit it if Prompto were to ask?
He was pretty sure the answer to that was no. It didn’t hurt to try though.
“So...you doing okay?” He leaned closer, attempting to act casual, continuing to watch the game. Noct glanced to the side briefly, nodding. Prompto bit the inside of his lip as he thought. Yes or no questions were far too easy to be vague with, he had to change his wording. “So like, what kind of ‘okay’ are we talking? Is your throat ‘okay’? Or did you sleep ‘okay’? Come on, help me out here.”
Noct rolled his eyes and flipped over to the messenger app.
[I’m fine. Stop worrying]
“See, now ‘fine’ is a really vague word.” The sight of Noct smacking his hand into his face, running it down his features, would’ve been hilarious usually. Prompto just took it as another wall his friend had managed to build up around himself. The blond sighed. “ Fine then. How’s the game so far?” The app closed and a few seconds of typing later, his phone buzzed.
[It’s fun. Kinda tricky, but just what I needed]
That sounded like a somewhat accidental admission that he wasn’t alright; maybe Prompto could act on it. “Listen, Noct—”
They both looked up suddenly at the familiar voices from the floor above, as Gladio began to help Ignis down the stairs. Prompto jumped up to help, his previous thought lost for the moment. As they got to the bottom, Gladio wrinkled his nose at the sight of Noct idly playing on his phone before darting his eyes away once more. It didn’t pass by the blond. Neither did the way Noct hunched over slightly, as if he could sense the glare. It left a bad feeling in the pit of Prompto’s stomach.
“We’re almost done, just gotta get a few more supplies before we head off,” Gladio said, mentally going over what they already had.
“And then across the sea and into Niflheim,” Ignis said, voice low. “How I wish I were able to see the land for myself.” Prompto felt a little pull in his chest at the words, turning to face Ignis fully.
“I’ll describe it for you, how about that?” he suggested with a small laugh. “After all, I’ve got a photographer’s eye for detail, right?” A smile caught the edges of Ignis’ mouth.
“Thank you, Prompto. That is most kind.”
“What would be kind is getting you someplace safe instead,” Gladio said, his tone deadly serious. “We’re heading into enemy territory—we don’t know what’s gonna be waiting for us. We can’t babysit two of you, all it takes is for us to get too caught up with the wrong enemy and—”
“I’m well aware, Gladio, but I simply cannot stay when—” Rushed footsteps caught his attention. Prompto looked around curiously.
“Iggy? What’s...up?” He turned around, spotting a key difference. “Where’s Noct?”
“It sounds as if he’s gone,” Ignis replied, somewhat perplexed.
Gladio ran a hand over his face, exasperated. “I swear if that kid doesn’t get his act together soon…” He sighed. “Let’s just finish things up here quick. He won’t go far.”
Noct grimaced as he paced briskly down the waterfront. Hearing the others talk about the danger they were throwing themselves into was the last thing he needed—he already had the images from his nightmares burnt into the back of his mind to remind him of that. They were all so willing, ready to follow him to the ends of Eos for a Crystal that might not even be able to save them. The thought made his head ache; he needed some fresh air. Making his way past citizens who were busying themselves repairing paving and preparing their shops for business once more with limited merchandise, he walked out onto one of the few undamaged secluded piers, looking out onto the calming crystalline waters before him. From this part of the city, it was almost as if nothing had happened.
How he wished that was the case.
Today was the day, as much as he wished it wasn’t. He was so tired, fatigue had settled deep into his bones and fogged his mind over the days he’d been unable to sleep. Focusing on anything was harder that it should have been; he knew he couldn’t lead like this. What good would he be in Niflheim if he couldn’t even concentrate? The others would be struck down trying to protect him in no time at all.
He didn’t want to be protected—he didn’t want them anywhere near this—but they’d all made their vow, and he knew they’d find him foolish for trying to make them stay.
Maybe if he could wear the ring, he could prove himself strong enough that he didn’t need them to follow him. At the thought of the black metal sat in his pocket, his stomach turned, remembering in his nightmares the image of the Ring of the Lucii’s power tearing him to shreds. He couldn’t face it. Not yet.
He just more needed time. But time had never really been on his side.
Leaning on the wooden fencing of the pier, he watched the water ripple, becoming lost in its rhythm as he felt his eyelids grow heavy. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been there as the sun traced its way lazily across the sky. Maybe Maybe sleeping in the daytime would be easier. He sorely needed it. Allowing his eyes to close, he focused on the sound of the water.
“Hey, you’re the prince, right?”
Noct’s eyes snapped open as he spun around to see a young man stood barely a few metres from him. To say he didn’t look happy was an understatement.
“Thought as much.” He seemed to have taken Noct’s reaction as confirmation as the prince watched him cautiously. “So—” He stepped forward; Noct had no room to back away. “—You really think no one’s noticed the Crown Prince of Lucis skulking around, standing by while the people caught up in your mess’ve worked day and night to rebuild their lives? This is one of the better areas, y’know!”
And yet everything was still upturned and flooded. Noct dreaded to think what the other areas looked like. He remained still, barely taking his eyes from the man as people began to gather round, murmuring curiously between themselves.
“Our city is in ruins and our Oracle is dead .” The man spat at the ground. “I hope the Tidemother’s blessing was worth it.” Noctis kept his gaze steady. “Well? Say something!”
Say what? Even if he could speak, what could he possible say? There had to be something , he had so much to apologise for. He was practically forced away from anything physically taxing, made to rest up before he even considered trying to aid anyone else. But that was no excuse. He should have tried harder.
“ I...I’m s-orry—I d-di— ” Shit, his throat felt like it was tearing itself apart. He coughed hard, trying to force his throat to clear, wincing as what felt like a wave of fire shot through it. The man’s focus seemed to shift to the scarring that ran across Noct’s neck, lesser damage reaching up the side of his cheek.
“So, you got hurt too, huh?” The young man stepped even closer. “ Good .” He grabbed Noctis by the shirt, pulling him forwards and closing the distance, his other hand balled into a fist. “What a pity, I was looking forward to hearing you scream . Guess I’ll have to make do.” Noct could see the intensity—the anger —in his eyes. He didn’t have any right to try and fight back. Shoulders sagging, he closed his eyes, waiting for the blows to land among the cries of concern and yells of encouragement filling the air.
Another voice from nearby spoke up. “Raph, maybe you should—”
“No ‘maybe’ about it, bud .” A familiar voice growled as Noct opened his eyes to see Gladio; his sturdy hand on the man named Raph’s shoulder, fingers tensed. “Let go. Move along, and I won’t have to do anything.” The man looked panicked at the size of the shield before him, releasing his grip on Noct’s shirt and shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked of, cursing the prince under his breath. The rest of the crowd quickly dispersed as Gladio cast a look around at everyone. They’d long outstayed their welcome; it was time to go.
Noct looked hesitantly at him, seeing once more a quiet anger settled in his eyes. “Head to the dock and get on the boat,” Gladio said, his tone low and commanding. He kept his gaze pointedly away from the prince. “Prompto and Iggy are waiting.”
The shield walked off towards the dock as Noct cast around a finally look at the people who were still watching cautiously. Turning his attention to Gladio as he walked away, the panicked feeling in his chest rose again; time was up.
Taking in a deep unsteady breath, he set off towards the boat.