Work Text:
"Ignis."
Noctis glances at his shield. Something's up. Enough to forego nicknames. The expression on Gladio's face is stern, jaw set and brows furrowed. Measured caution; open hostility won't look too good in a room with two nations teetering on the verge of war. Noctis follows Ignis' line of sight, poring over a pleasant backdrop of Lucian black and Niflheimr white intermingled until it's broken by a deep, rich wine hue.
"So much for subtlety," Ignis says quietly, disdain bleeding into his voice though his expression stays perfectly proper. It's almost uncanny.
"The Chancellor, right?" Gladio looks away then, for posterity.
"Yeah," Noctis answers, “Izunia."
The Accursed looks through the practiced mask of a smile, meeting his gaze dead on, even turning the heads of those accompanying him. He raises his hand in greeting.
Finally. Noctis turns to his advisor, grabbing him gently by the elbow of his suit. Ignis' brow quirks in surprise. Time to cash in.
"Guys. You both owe me a favor, remember?"
He watches their faces scrunch together. Ignis is the first to remember, the realization dawning as he remembers when Noctis drove back to his apartment to pick up some important papers Ignis had forgotten to bring to the Citadel before a meeting. Gladio remembers when Noctis covered for his Crownsguard training so he could have a day off to go to a book signing about a week ago. Noctis takes a breath.
"This is it. You can ask questions later, but right now I need to go solo. For just... a little while."
"Noct, that's-"
"Please," he gives Gladio what feels like his most pleading look yet.
What ensues is a heated battle of facial expressions from both shield and advisor until they eventually cave. It's almost comical how, when it comes to the prince's safety, the two work together like a single, well-oiled unit.
"Watch your back. You're the second most important Lucian in here tonight; there's no telling how dirty the Niflheimrs are willing to play."
"Report back in half an hour or we're sounding the alarms. Wherever you go, stick to the upper wing. The eastward tower, if you must. Nowhere near the-"
"Crystal, I get it," Noctis huffs. "Trust me, I know the target on my back is bigger than a Catoblepas. I'll be careful. Thirty minutes."
With that, Noctis pulls away from the safety of his retainers and steps onto the playing field, conversations stuttering almost unnoticeably as several heads turn to watch the Lucian prince's every move. He tries to keep the weight of the attention off of himself, but even with several lifetimes of political etiquette and unwanted public attention, he feels his heart quicken as he nears. Ardyn, aggravatingly, just stands there waiting for him. The Nifhleimr nobility steps aside, white robes and dresses fluttering. He halts and orients himself. Black in a flock of white, circled and singled out just by existing.
"Chancellor Izunia."
He tightens the circle, taking a bold step forward. The façade of conversations dims even more, everyone wanting to know why the prince of Lucis is demanding an audience with the chancellor. Ardyn gives a perfunctory bow, stooping appropriately low.
"Your Highness."
"I understand you've had quite a hand in resolving the tensions at the border in recent months."
Noctis doesn't actually know that, he's mostly guessing from what he's heard has been going on in the sea between Lucis and Niflheim. Territory disputes, trespassing and military grandstanding when either side got too cocky, riled up by years of on and off tension like a line pulled too taut, fraying and threatening to give but never giving. His dad had been looking progressively more haggard with every passing day of the brewing conflict. Noctis wouldn't forget the relieved, immensely tired smile that dawned on his face when the news broke that the Niflheimr navy were pulling back from the border en masse. Ardyn shakes his head, waving away long hours of arduous and exasperating work trying to convince battle-hungry Niflheimrs to not see a single act of trespassing as an invitation to war.
"Merely performing my duty as chancellor. I assure you that such a senseless and... isolated incident is unlikely to occur again."
It nearly makes Noctis laugh as a few Niflheimr elites shoot dirty looks at Ardyn's back for his words. His insolence, smiling enigmatically as though he didn't just insult an entire faction of the Niflheim empire. Noctis returns the expression, then promptly decides he's had enough of the nonsense.
"While it's now behind us, I've had some thoughts on the matter. I thought it might help to ponder on them with someone who was closely involved. If I might steal a moment of your time...?"
Ardyn quirks a brow. As do many of the nosy people around him. Noctis resists the urge to roll his eyes, already gesturing for the other to follow. Away from prying eyes and ears.
"Not trying to wheedle state secrets from me, I should hope?"
If any Lucian heard that, they would snipe at Ardyn on behalf of the prince, but the worst that comes about is a light gasp from a Niflheimr lady. Perhaps it's only good that Ardyn's being openly disrespectful; some might've thought he'd been conspiring with Lucis by giving in to their demands so much during the border tension.
"Nothing that isn't public record."
They navigate through a parting sea of mottled white turning slowly into black before becoming sparser and sparser. Eyes follow and heads turn, but once they're out of the main hall, out of the brightest lights, it's easier to breathe. Just before the open doors letting in cool, nightly air, one of the Crownsguard standing put recognizes him and moves to follow them outside. Noctis orders her to stand down, sending an apologetic smile on the way out. He steps out onto the balcony lining part of the wing. It's a lovely thing, a little piece of nature so high up, stone walkways lined with flowerbeds and small trees, leading all the way to the railings. Plenty of spaces to hide away from the world at large, or any other nosy nobles.
Thankfully, there aren't many visitors here, most of them outside for a quick breather before returning to play their part in a complex, convoluted game of etiquette and cleverly concealed backhandedness. At least, that's how Noctis has known it to be.
Despite being born a prince and appointed a king many times over, the world of real, no-nonsense politics never agreed with him.
He reaches a part of the balcony that is entirely deserted; any person that knows of its existence has no real reason to come this far out, away from the gatherings, unlit save for the dim lamplight too far away to properly illuminate.
Noctis sighs as he seats himself on an ornate bench overlooking the Insomnian cityscape stretching into the distance below, a cloudy night sky above. Ardyn sits down beside him.
"I must say, bringing me all the way out here to discuss border conflicts is rather questionable, no?"
Noctis scoffs.
"Let 'em talk. I don't know how you managed four-or-so lifetimes doing all of this."
Ardyn stills for a moment. Then he shrugs.
"Patience of a saint."
"Don't get cocky now."
"You'd think I'd have earned the right."
It's interesting to see the other slowly lose the façade of a haughty politician and slip into the demeanor of a somewhat disgruntled immortal way past his due.
"So this is how you're playing it now? Keeping the peace?"
"As long as it can last. Iedolas seems ever eager to dig his own grave over your Crystal, and the Niflheim elite are starting to test the waters of the armistice. Without the Magitek I provided the first times around, their military prowess is considerably less, but I fear that won't stop them. The last few months showed as much."
"You've done all you can," Noctis says, "More than I have, at least. I'm setting out to collect the Royal Arms and commune with the Astrals in two weeks, though I wish I could've started earlier."
He recalls, half a year ago, startling awake on the floor of his apartment with tears in his eyes and a heart pounding like a drum, the memory of a sword handle in a calloused, shaking hand, flames licking at his ankles. Death all around him. Failure boring a hole in his heart. He got his phone from where he lay on the floor, checking the date, the news and his calendar. Surprisingly, Lucis wasn't being backed into a geographical corner, and Magitek never came to exist. The two nations had settled into an uneasy stalemate, though he came to know that that fragile peace was just that- fragile, and not made to last.
Ardyn, about thirty years into trying to doom and then save the world again, seems to ponder on his efforts, staring out into the night a little helplessly.
"There's never enough time."
Noctis hums in agreement, unable to keep his gaze on anything but the man sitting next to him. He looks good in a suit. Crisp white, pleasantly muted in the darkness. A red peony brooche to signify allegiance to the Empire. Hair still as unruly as ever. Silk, red-palm gloves and shiny shoes.
"Enjoying the show?"
Ardyn doesn't look over, though there's a hint of a grin playing on his lips. He knows he's got an audience; then again Noctis isn't really trying to hide anything.
"I should thank your tailor."
"Oh, take him off my hands, if you please. He's a horrid little man. So aggressively patriotic it makes me wonder if he wouldn't have made a better chancellor."
"For Iedolas, maybe. For me? Not so much."
Ardyn smirks, leaning an arm against the backrest and looking over.
"Careful. All that flattery might go to my head if you keep doling it out so carelessly."
Noctis crosses his arms, pulling back.
"Just stating the facts."
A breeze rustles the leaves behind. A bed of lights far below, the slightest hum of nighttime traffic reaching so high up.
"There is much work to be done," Ardyn says, "Now that I know you're awake we might even be able to consider a different approach."
"How so?"
"A real peace treaty, or a coup to keep Niflheim occupied. In any case, as little interference with the Prophecy as possible, and the safeguarding of your family and the Crystal."
Noctis remembers, vaguely, a time when Ardyn cared little for either. But that was then, and now he seems determined to have things play out differently. Less death, less hardship. A future worth building on, with both of them dead set on living to see it, especially now that they knew there was a chance. A slim, terribly slim chance.
"So I should hold off on collecting the Royal Arms?"
"Until we've exhausted all our options in keeping the war from breaking out, I expect your presence will be more valuable in the halls of the Citadel than on the battlefield."
"Alright then," Noctis nods, trying to reconcile the gravity of the situation with the dour realization that he won't be getting out of Insomnia any time soon. For all the pain and hardship of his first journey, there was no feeling that could hold a candle to the freedom of roaming the world out there with his closest friends at his back. Never enough time. Noctis sits upright, stretching his somewhat stiffened joints before standing up to walk over to the railing. He looks at the districts, brightly lit streets like perfectly angular rivers. The wall looms in the distance, a huge shadow casing in the city. If he concentrates, he can feel the magic of the Wall, an omnipresent, massive web of energy.
A hand comes to rest atop his own on the railing. Smooth, soft satin pleasant against his skin.
Noctis realizes he doesn't have much time left before Gladio and Iggy notify the other Crownsguard to locate him.
"Are you going back tonight?"
It's a redundant question. Niflheim is not going to risk having their most important political figures sleeping under the roof of their greatest enemy, no matter how hospitable the Lucians have been so far. In a few hours, the Niflheimr will politely take their leave, droves of white floating back to their airships to spend the night just outside of Insomnia and the Wall. Ardyn looks down at him, eyes soft.
"I'm... expected in the morning, yes."
"Is that so?"
Noctis takes the gloved hand into his own, raising it to his cheek. Soft fabric grazing, it feels like he could sink into the touch. Slow, even circles to lull him into a daze.
"I've missed you."
Noctis' breath sticks. Astrals. Ardyn's never been this sentimental; maybe that's why the words are barely louder than the rustling of the leaves.
"Thirty years?" Noctis guesses, "Give or take."
At that, the immortal Accursed simply cocks his head to the side, a half-grin pulling at his lips. Tired, but charming.
"I've had worse."
Noctis wastes no time taking the other by the lapels of his suit and kissing him like he needs it to live. Then again, he only has about five minutes. Ardyn meets him with the same restlessness, gloved hands roaming like they don't know where to settle.
The first time must've been similar; a lifetime in between has made the finer details blurry. Born from desperation, a desire to be close to the only thing that understood him, across lifetimes of turbulence, in a world that had so suddenly lost the very foundations on which it stood.
Even Noctis himself didn't quite understand what was going on until he stood there, by the light of the Crystal, shivering from exertion with his friends somewhere far behind. The glittering core beckoned him, exuding warmth like it was alive. He'd been here before. The steel walkways, the heavy chains and the thick plates lining the walls. He raised a hand to the Crystal like he knew he was supposed to, but pulled back. Ardyn was there. Noctis broke the illusion.
"There has to be another way."
Everything had been the same. Everything leading up to that point in time would in turn lead him to the same future. A broken world, ten years of darkness. So much death. If he knew now that he could go back, what could he change?
He pulled back from the Crystal, brandished the Ring of the Lucii and took a single, shaky breath.
"If you're certain," Ardyn said, looking less than pleased about his plans falling through once again.
Magic started flaring up and outwards from the ring, something like voices protesting against the waking energy surges that would blow the entire chamber to pieces, along with the two of them.
"Come find me. I'll find you."
The Accursed nodded, resigning himself to another life. Noctis closed his eyes and redirected the blast towards himself.
They didn't go back far enough, that became clear somewhere down the line. Noctis had to live through his father dying again, Insomnia burning to ash and Eos on fire. No way to mitigate the damage the Long Night would bring, not in one year. Never enough time. Then, in a single, unfortunate sweep of fate and circumstance, they lost Ignis. From that point, nothing mattered. If he couldn’t safeguard the lives of his friends, then the world could fall to its doom all over again for all he cared. Noctis came to Ardyn, exhausted, disappointed and lost, seeking answers he knew the other didn't have. No other answer than a gun pointed to his head, the safety clicking off as the amber eyes of his executioner closed solemnly.
He didn't think so highly of the other back then; didn't have a good reason to, not yet. He was just achingly, devastatingly lonely. And together they made a lonely pair, tied and twisted.
He still isn't quite sure what to think of the other, having seen the very worst, but knowing what drove him to such lengths. And now, against all odds, the willingness to do right by him, by his family and the rest of Eos. Noctis wonders, had the Astrals not royally fucked up, what good Ardyn could've done for the world.
He reluctantly breaks away to catch some air. The hand resting against his hip feels a little too enticing to keep, so he gently grabs hold of it.
"I need to get going."
Ardyn actually huffs, comically childish for someone with about two-thousand years and then some under his belt.
"I'm serious," Noctis snickers, still letting the other move in closer to nuzzle his neck, knowing full well it's his weak spot. He's pretty sure Ardyn knows too.
“Later,” he says with emphasis, quietly lamenting the absence of the warmth at his neck, “What if someone catches us like this?”
Their hands are still on each other, and not exactly in the most platonic of ways.
“Scandal of the century,” Ardyn says, “Might even shock Niflheim into a standstill.”
“A marriage to unify the nations?”
“Strictly political, of course.”
“Of course,” Noctis laughs, finally dropping his hands. Ardyn, however, steals another moment they don’t really have to fix up his collar, eliminating the evidence.
“Thanks,” Noctis admits. He takes a step back. “You know where to find me?”
Ardyn settles against the railing, blending in with the night.
“Always do.”
Noctis feels like a teenager, something as pleasant as it is precarious thrumming in his chest. Something that makes him itch to take that satin-gloved hand and run like hell. Run somewhere the whole of Eos and the Gods themselves won’t find them. But tonight is just the beginning. The beginning of what, exactly, he’s not sure, but he’s got a good feeling about this one. They both have an ending to get to.
“Godsdamned bastard,” he mutters under his breath. With that, he lets the thing in his chest guide him back, gracing Ardyn with a quick peck on the cheek before leaning in.
“I’ll be waiting.”
He gets one glance of the other’s starstruck expression and takes his leave, satisfied with the results and not wanting to be responsible for a complete lockdown of the Citadel. The chandelier lights, the buzzing of voices and the heavy eyes of aristocracy greet him with no amount of kindness as he steps back into the fray. He barely remembers, Gladio and Ignis parsing through the crowd towards him with poorly concealed haste, to wipe the residual grin off his face. Back to playing the part.
At least he has something to look forward to.