Archive of Our Own

He did not appear until after. After reestablishment efforts had been completed, after Insomnia had been semi-rebuilt, and a semblance of governance had been restored. The crown of Lucis is fragile, so fragile that Ignis feared a small gust of the Duscae winds would knock it back on its heels. With no proper King, with no proper council, the people had elected a sort of unionised way of ruling. The glaives and guards taking point, the Crownsguard slash Kingsglaive managing office. 

That’s besides the point. 

He has other things to worry about. With a very big emphasis on other. 

“You think you’d lighten up a bit, after everything that has happened.” 

Ignis breathes a heavy sigh through his nose. He tilts his head towards the direction of the voice, a frown set upon his face. “Apologies, but I do not see how, in any way or in any era, would I lighten up with my current… predicament.”

A snort. A pang in Ignis’ heart. 

He hears the movement before he feels it. A body drapes itself over his back, arms dropping over his shoulders. For a moment, Ignis wants to melt into the warmth, into the sigh at his neck and the fingers playing with the folds in his coat. His body betrays him instantly, shuddering once before it settles into a tremble in his hands. Gods. Ignis wonders. Always quick to cause incommodity.

“Relax, specs.” Noctis says, a breath of laughter in his voice. “You seriously need a break.” He eyes the stacks of braille paperwork, the laptop screen propped up on text-to-speech mode: The King of Light, Celebrating the Dawn. 

Ignis just cannot accept this. 

Noctis, who liked to whine for Ignis to stop working so much. Who had been the one to first drag him out for a drink when he turned 18, getting absolutely inebriated and having to have Ignis take him home instead of the other way around. Who had laughed so hard when Gladio tripped in the sand and landed on his face after 2 weeks of hunting daemons for Gil that even Ignis couldn’t help but giggle at. Who had chased Prompto around on his white chocobo until Prompto was squealing and Gladio was guffawing like a behemoth. Who had woken up at dawn more than once to hug Ignis while he prepared breakfast for the rest of them, asleep on his shoulder while fully standing up, trailing kisses up his neck. 

Noctis, who had held Ignis’ heart, his love, everything , and had taken it all with him when he died. 

This, this is not Noctis. 

Noctis sighs. 

He climbs into Ignis’ lap, rests his head on Ignis’ collarbones, and closes his eyes. Presses a kiss there and holds his gloved hands. “Ignis, I love you. Please take a break.” he says. 

“Release me.” Ignis hisses in a demand, shoving Noctis away from him. Noctis sighs, the sound ringing in Ignis’ ears. He shrugs, a movement that Ignis cannot see but can certainly feel from the way the air shifts around them. He knows Noct too much, after all. 

“Sure. I have to go anyway.”

Not a moment later, the door opens wide enough for both Prompto and Gladio to walk in. “Wassup, Iggy!” Prompto greets, skipping over to Ignis’ office chair and dropping himself onto Ignis’ shoulder, the action so similar to what Noctis had just done that he has to actively fight back the bile rising in his throat. He hears Gladio shut the door behind them.

Prompto presses a kiss to his temple, and immediately begins ranting. “Lemme tell ya, new glaives? Absolutely HORRIBLE. I mean, you think 10 years of darkness would teach them a little sense of, uh, I don’t know, avoiding fights they can’t win. I get that they were hunters before this, but c’mon! Gladio absolutely wrecked them, dude! Threw one of them right across the training hall!”

“It’s not my fault they’re so stupid. Even Noct wasn’t dumb enough to come at me with fucking daggers, of all things. I swear, we need to get them some intellectual training before they even step foot in that hall again.”

Prompto grunts. “Noct would have kicked their asses too. Fucked up back, knee, and whatever else hell he was dealing with when he fought Ardyn. Hell, he would’ve taken 30 of them.”

Gladio readily agrees. “You see, as much as I hate to admit it, Noct had a brain when it came to combat.” 

“Oh man, Iggy!” Prompto exclaims, “You should totally kick their asses next. Let them have a taste of losing to a blind man. Knock their ego down a bit! Noct would be really proud.”

Noct. Proud? 

“Is that so?” Ignis responds weakly. 

Prompto picks up on his tone immediately. Ignis hears him get up, feels the hands on his arms. His chair spun around so that, presumably, Prompto could look into his blurred eyes. Ignis had taken to not wearing sunglasses at all, much too weary to keep up with vanity of all things. 

“He was here.” Prompto says, not a question. Ignis, as an answer and a moment of weakness, rests his forehead on Prompto’s stomach. It’s difficult to manage when he’s alone. His hands are still shaking. Prompto curses a very colourful string of words, and ends it with, “I’ll fucking kill him.”

“I don’t think you can.” It’s not a doubt in Prompto’s abilities, but a simple fact. 

Prompto holds him closer. Gladio scans the room.

Noctis, not-Noctis, appeared after the Dawn. 

After they finally had time in their schedule, and could exist without collapsing under the weight of grief on their shoulders, Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio had properly sent Noct off, a private ceremony in Caem where no one was aware of. Not even Cor. 

Noctis had appeared right after, leaning on the gravestone with a sparkle of blue light, a smirk on his lips, and a little, “Wow, you guys look exhausted.” 

Ignis, who did not, does not, have the sight to witness the slow manifestation that Gladio and Prompto did, had jumped at the sound of the voice, his hands reaching for a dagger. Prompto, quicker than any of them, had immediately pulled the trigger of his gun. 

According to Gladio, Noctis had bled. Red blood down his forehead, looking surprised, but all too pleased. “Good aim, Prom.”

Gladio had attacked soon after, while Ignis reeled from the sound of the gunshot so close to his ear, his heart thumping so loud in his chest he feared he would lose it completely. But that wasn’t possible, because his heart was buried in the ground before him. 

Ignis heard the sound of blades clashing, Noctis’ delighted laughter. 

Now, they just can’t get rid of him. 

In the present, Ignis swallows the lump past his throat, “I imagine he left because he didn’t want to deal with cleaning up a bullet in his head.” 

Gladio walks a few paces, and he stops right at the edge of Ignis’ desk. “He left something.” Gladio announces after a moment. Prompto’s grip on him tightens, Gladio turns to punch the wall. He reaches his arm out without displacing himself from Prompto’s embrace, grabs whatever Gladio had found on his organised desk. Out of place enough for Ignis to immediately recognise it. 

Phoenix Down. 

Next time, it’s Gladio. 

A few more weeks have passed, and Gladio is clearing out some monster infestation in the subway. The new glaives too much of bitch babies to really do anything, and the more trained ones outside Insomnia are helping with relief efforts and fighting more dangerous ones all around Leide and Duscae. 

In hindsight, he should have taken the advice to bring backup, but hindsight is one thing, Gladio’s decisions are another. As it stands, he’s sitting on the train tracks, hand pressed to a wound on his arm. It’s by no means life threatening, but if he’s here any longer it’s going to get infected and honestly? Antibiotics are kinda on the low end, and he doesn’t really want to use any that might save another person’s life. So, he bears it. 

“You should not have to bear that.” 

Gladio drops his sword, banishes it into the armiger, and heaves a great deep sigh. 

“Why won’t you leave us the fuck alone?” Gladio wonders, looking at the ceiling of the dusty subway. There’s some mold spots, terribly disgusting to look at, but it’s better than looking at his dead boyfriend. 

“Yeah, not a chance, dufus. Not with how you guys are reacting” Noctis snorts. He comes around and peers at the wound, “Why haven’t you used a potion on it?” 

Gladio still doesn’t look at him. “Gave the last one to some civilians making camp out here. Got them to leave and seek shelter at the relief centre the hunters have set up around the city. A kid was sick.” he has no idea why he’s telling Noctis all this. 

“Didn’t know you had a heart.” 

“Can it.” 

“Nice work, Gladio.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Doesn’t it hurt?” 

Everything hurts. Gladio wants to scream. Everytime you show up I feel like I’ve failed you. I see you and I see Ignis crying, I see Prompto trying not to shoot you, but he has to. I see you and I remember that you took my heart with you. 

Instead, he says, “Of course it fucking hurts what does it look like to you? It’s blood and gore not sunshine and rainbows.” 

“Okay cranky pants yeesh. Then let me deal with it!” 

Next thing he knows, there’s a freezing hand on his, and Gladio jerks, but Noctis is suddenly all up in his space, closer than he was. Not even a minute later, Noctis pulls back. He smiles at the wound, self satisfied at the skin stitching back together. Like a magical potion. Gladio is too preoccupied staring at him, at his lips, his face, his eyelashes. 

“I miss you.” Gladio blurts out, regrets it as soon as it leaves him. Closes his eyes when Noctis steps back in his space, hands hesitating and ultimately falling by his side. 

“I know, Gladio. I know.” 

When Gladio opens his eyes, he’s gone. 

Prompto is on his rounds, checking up on city infrastructure, texting Cor to check up on wherever the hell he’s currently at (Saxham outpost, apparently. Was there even anything left there?) when he spots Noctis by a creek that runs past this part of the city. Noctis waves him over. 

Prompto is immediately on guard, checking if there is anyone else around him. But, as expected, not a soul in sight. Prompto sighs, okay, not a threat then. 

“I can see you overthinking from all the way here.” Noctis says, not taking his eyes off his rod. “Get your ass over here.” Reluctantly, Prompto does just that. 

There’s a bit of silence, Noctis grumbling when a fish takes a nibble of the bait, but doesn’t commit enough for him to reel it in. “You shook Ignis up that one time. Took him a while to even leave his office. Gladio and I haven’t gone to bed with him since.” Prompto starts, staring out into the water. Noctis shrugs, “Iggy is too tense.” 

“For good reason.” Prompto points out, fists clenching. “You can’t keep doing this.” 

Noctis takes his eyes off the water for just a second. “Why not?” 

Prompto looks at him in disbelief. “You suck.” he says again. 

“Wha- That’s a bitch thing to say to your prince!” Noctis shouts, indignant. Prince , Noctis had used. Prompto lingers on the word for a bit, but Noctis picks conversation back up. “If I suck then you suck too!” he declares, then, he stalls for a bit. A shit eating grin starts to spread. 

Prompto narrows his eyes. “What?” he questions. 

Noctis smirks. “Nah. We just both suck. Suck dick.” 

Prompto groans so loud a few birds fly off. Noctis chortles. What a Noctis thing to say. Prompto can’t help but smile, even if his heart aches as he does so. 

“I’m serious though.” he sighs. 

“So am I.” Noctis shrugs, eying the water again. 

“Noctis…”

Noctis opens his mouth to say something, but then the line catches, and he curses instead. Prompto, pure muscle memory, stands straighter and watches him fight the fish on the line. “That’s a huge fish!” he gapes when the fish does a little jump outta the water. “Aw man, I’m gonna be so disappointed if you lose this one.” 

“Don’t backseat fish me!” Noctis complains, straining with the effort to reel in a city creek fish. “City fish are so annoying.. Help me out here!” he demands, heels skidding dramatically. Just a show. 

Prompto giggles, wonders damn even Not-Noctis struggles with big fish , and circles his back. Gripping on tight so they don’t fall in. “Don’t you dare pull me in.” Prompto warns. Noctis, too distracted by trying to catch the critter, simply grunts. 

A little more curses leave his mouth, but eventually, they do get the fish out. Noctis holds it out like a lottery, his grin so wide Prompto can’t help but smile too. 

“Prom, do you remember this creek?” he pokes, slapping him with the tail. 

“Gross dude! Don’t do that!” Prompto shrieks, but takes the fish by the hook Noctis has got it on. “And, duh dude, of course I do. You’d drag me out here after school and totally ditch your training, or some lesson you didn’t want to go to. Honestly I’m surprised it’s still here.” 

“Eh, of course it’s still here,” Noctis nods, completely serious. “Fishing is way more fun than royal stuff.” 

Royal stuff got Noctis killed, so Prompto is inclined to agree. 

Noctis frowns, as if reading his mind. “Stop frowning, you’re going to turn like, 40.” 

“Dude!” Prompto protests, “Not cool! I’m like, 33!” 

“You liar.” 

“Shut up!” 

Blushing, he looks at the fish, enough to feed at least 3 people. Noctis smiles at him, comes closer, fish flopping between them, and kisses him. Prompto gasps in surprise, his eyes shooting open wide, seeing the purple-red-blue-grey of Noctis’ eyes. 

Noctis pulls away quick, before Prompto can pull out a piece of machinery form the armiger to attack him with. Stepping back, Noctis says, “Guess you’ll be seeing more of me after all.” 

As if that makes any sense. 

When Noctis disappears again, Prompto allows himself a single shuddery breath. He looks towards the creek, expecting to see clear waters and a few more fish swimming around. Instead, the water is murky, full of debris. 

No life in sight. 

“What do you think he wants?” Prompto asks over dinner. All three of them are back in their chambers, high up on the citadel, huddled around a dining table and loosely dressed in their uniforms. Citadel issued clothing with protective armour and all that. They’re a busy bunch, ok? At least Gladio and Prompto took off their jackets, Ignis is still wearing his. 

Gladio scoffs, aggressively stabbing a broccoli and loudly chewing. “Just wants to fuck with us, I think.” 

“He already accomplished that.” Ignis mutters, feeling with his utensils the flesh of the fish they’re eating, neatly deboning them. Trusting that either Gladio or Prompto would pick out whatever he left out (he never does.) Prompt looks away, the movement strange to Gladio. Prompto just shrugs, not wanting to tell them exactly where he got the fish. 

“At least he doesn’t appear when there are other people around.”

“Yeah, what a surprise.” Gladio says dully. “Fuck with the ones that loved Noct up to the bitter end, am I right?” he says, dripping with sarcasm but carrying an underlying tone of grief. “One second he’s all nice and cozy, the next he’s like a nightmare.” Ignis reaches out to gently grasp his hand. 

Prompto fiddles with his fork, eying the sharp tips. Possibly imagining driving it into not-Noctis’ skull. “He fucks with us I fuck with him.” he declares solemnly. 

A chill sets in the room for just a brief second before it settles, and Ignis doesn’t need his sight to see the way both Prompto and Gladio have tensed up. 

“Promise?” Noctis asks, his head hanging off the couch, his body twisted so similarly to how Noct had done when they were all still in their teens, playing video games and eating greasy pizza that Ignis only allowed once a month. 

They collectively ignore him and go back to their food. Ignis withdraws his hand, rubbing the bridge of his nose and continuing with his fish. “We ought to see if we can get our hands on seabass.” he says mildly. 

“I like seabass!” Noctis exclaims, jumping off the couch in excitement. 

We know. They all collectively think, but don't say. 

“Hell no! I’m not dragging my ass to Caem for some seabass. Noct is the fish master, not me.” Prompto says, all defensive as if Ignis was planning to actually drag them out to Caem. Gladio rolls his eyes, “All the better that he’s resting there then.”

“What?!” Noctis exclaims, “I’m right here!” 

Ignis reaches for his wine, sipping at it and trying not to gag. There were other food priorities during the Endless Night, wine certainly was not one of them. “We can just go to the market.” Ignis suggests. 

“Yeah, and let all of Insomnia gawk at us decked out in our all black fits? I don’t think so.” Prompto grumbles, finishing off the last of his food. Gladio shoves Prompto’s shoulder, grinning at his responding squeak. “Why? Don’t like being stared at? Thought you liked attention.” he says, teasing Prompto’s thigh with his toes, bumping into Ignis’ hip in the process. 

“You’re killing me, big guy.” Prompto whines. Ignis cracks a smile. 

Noctis shuffles closer. Gladio is nearest, but he doesn’t even flinch when Noctis stops by his side to say, “I could protect you. That new market down the street by the Marshal’s residence has a lot of stuff last I checked. Easy pickings.”

“Gladio, behave.” Ignis sighs, feeling toes up his waist. Honestly, what happened to decorum? Gladio puts his foot down, but pokes Prompto just enough for him to throw a broccoli at his place.

“Think we can get Cor to establish trade routes through Caem?” Prompto wonders. “I know he’s busy in Lestallum, but…” he trails off, thoughtful. Gladio shakes his head. “In case you’re forgetting, it’s our duty to do politics now. Trade is right in there.”

“Fuck.” Prompto groans, head on the table.. 

“ Pay attention to me.”  

Noctis leans down to slam his hands on the table, their entire dinnerware bouncing. Frost starts forming at the edge of their tables, up the plate Ignis is eating from. Prompto sighs, his shoulders slumping even as his forehead remains firmly plastered to the table cloth. “Can I please?” he begs, just as his wine glass shatters into his hair - thankfully, it's devoid of actual wine. Even Prompto has tastes.  

Gladio grunts. 

“We literally cannot stop you.” 

Prompto is quick. He grabs the fish knife from the table, and hurls it straight at Noctis. It whizzes past Gladio’s head in a straight line, perfectly marked. Too stunned to react, Noctis, who was expecting a bullet, not a blade, takes it right at the base of his throat. Ignis hears him gurgle for just a moment, then the ice is disappearing, and it is quiet. 

Ignis raises a single eyebrow. 

“It is 9pm on a workday, Igster.” Prompto explains, “Gunshots are loud y’know.” 

“That was hot.” Gladio says, grinning widely. 

Prompto giggles. “You gonna do something about it, big guy?”

“Gentlemen,” Ignis starts, clearing his throat when his voice breaks. He’s looking at the frozen bits of his fish. “There is glass on the table that needs cleaning.”

“Sir yes sir.” they both respond. A moment later though, Prompto slumps. “Guess ignoring him doesn’t work, huh. Never seen him so angry.” 

“Never? Really?”

Prompto shoots him a glare. “Not Not-Noctis.” he snaps. 

They clean up in silence. 

Later, when they’re curled into one another in bed, Ignis is awoken by Gladio’s strong arms around his waist, Prompto’s face in his chest. The darkness is worse than usual, not even a speck of light around his deformed vision. Gladio kisses the base of Ignis’ neck, clearly awake too. 

Prompto snores. 

They pretend they don’t see the eyes watching them from the window. 

The next morning, surprisingly, Noctis is still there. It’s Prompto who wakes first, and what he sees breaks his heart, just a moment. 

“Are you crying?” he whispers to Noctis. Noctis furiously wipes his tears away. “It’s not fair.” he mutters darkly. Prompto sighs, sits up, and wonders how Gladio and Ignis stayed asleep. “You should stop tormenting us.” Prompto says, tired. 

“I am not tormenting you three.” Noctis hisses, his eyes flashing purple-red. The same shade of magic that Noctis had when he summoned the gods. Prompto eyes Ignis’ dagger, tucked in the bed frame by their heads. He considers it, but then decides to do what he does best. Talk. 

“You are, though. You miss it every time, but Ignis cries.” Prompto goes on. 

“You mean after you kill me.” Noctis points out. Prompto gives him a very weak smile. “Yeah, but you’re not dead, are you? So technically, I never succeed.” 

A pause. 

“But my Noct is. He’s dead. You’re not him.” 

“I can be.”

Prompto actually laughs. “You can’t. No one can be him. Not even you.” 

Noctis bares his teeth, his lips curled into a snarl. “It’s been 4 years, Prompto.” 

Prompto shrugs, “5 years, actually. And you only appeared months ago.” he corrects. Noctis’ snarl deepens. Prompto grips the hilt of Ignis’ dagger tighter. Noctis catches the movement, and his eyes narrow. “Don’t even think about it. I have Iggy and Gladio.” he warns. 

Prompto looks down at his two lovers, fast asleep - no doubt due to some strong magic. Frost crawls around their necks, forming hands. Prompto shakes his head. “If you wanted to kill us, you would have already.” 

“So why do you kill me? I haven’t harmed any of you.”

The explanation is easy. “Because Ignis and Gladio can’t. No matter who you are, what you are, you look like Noct. You talk like Noct. You act like Noct. Fuck, you have his memories, how else do you know which buttons to push? They can’t kill you. They had a duty.” 

Had. 

Noctis visibly bristles. “And you didn’t? And you can? Kill me? Don’t you love me as much as they do? You’d shoot someone you love?” he accuses. Prompto’s expression hardens. “I’m shooting for Ignis and Gladio . Get it straight. Besides, you are not Noct. Noct is never cruel. You?” he jerks his chin towards Noctis, “You are beyond cruel. Cruel enough to make Ignis cry. Cruel enough to rob us of our own happiness.”

“Rob you?” Noctis laughs, loud and booming. He stands from his spot on the window, the curtains blowing past him with the wind. He makes a dangerous figure. “You’ve robbed me of plenty.” he responds harshly. 

That makes the gears in Prompto’s head turn. But he’s tired, Ignis is growing cold, and Gladio’s face has started to furrow. “You’re hurting them.” Prompto says gently. Noctis stills, watching the two people sleeping. 

“I just want….” Noctis starts, but doesn’t finish. He releases his magic. Ignis and Gladio stir immediately, and in a flash of blue and white sparks, ‘Noctis’ disappears. 

Gladio is awake immediately, Ignis too. They both groan, Ignis going as far as to turn his face into his pillow. Gladio is not better, it’s through sheer willpower that he manages to sit up. “That little bastard.” Gladio hisses, “Fuck, it’s freezing.” 

Prompto didn’t even notice the temperature. 

Ignis only turns his head when he feels a drop of moisture on his cheek. His face softens. Gingerly, he sits up. “Prompto.” he coos, gentle and comforting. Gladio sighs, shaking ice away from their blankets and draping it over the blonde man. 

“Prom, it’s okay.” 

Prompto sobs, collapsing into Ignis’ arms. “None of this is okay.” he cries. “Do you ever just want to pretend? That he really is here. That he never went into that throne room, never left us behind on those steps? That we never had to bury his body .” he grabs Gladio’s hands, pulls him closer. 

“I do.” Ignis says honestly, resigned. “All the time. But… ” 

Gladio has to breathe, shaky and disoriented from the magic. “We failed him. We can’t let… whoever this is, to wreck what we have left of him.”  

Prompto just cries harder. 

It’s a long time before they manage to get up from bed; all of them late for their daily security check in with the citadel. Cor means to ask, he does, but when he sees the circles under their eyes and the tear tracks still running down Prompto’s face, he decides it’s best not to. 

A solid month later, with weekly appearances by Not-Noctis, sometimes several times in one day, they’re in the training hall together. 3am and polishing their combat and their weapons, it’s routine work for when Gladio can’t sleep. Ignis and Prompto accompany him, never having the heart to let the ex-Shield drown in his grief alone. 

They’re sparring. Ignis with Prompto, sharpening his senses. Prompto’s machinery is much too quiet compared to classic blades slicing through the air, but whatever sound advantage is gone when he reloads and arms them. 

A rubber bullet barely misses Ignis’ head, and Prompto whistles in appreciation. Not even a second later, his feet are swept out from under him, and he has to dodge Gladio’s incoming shield bash. 

He gets up, trips a little - it’s ass o’clock in the morning, okay? - and Gladio nearly clips his side, but a flash of blue, and suddenly another blade is parrying the strike, sending Gladio back. 

Forgetting himself, Prompto gasps, “ Noct?” Ignis and Gladio both flinch. 

Noctis throws a look over his shoulder, and winks. “Hey, blondie.” 

Tonight, all of them are too tired to keep up any more pretenses. Pretend, huh? The thought is in his head now, and once it’s there…

Ignis doesn’t hesitate, throwing a dagger their way, just enough to throw Noctis off balance. He swerves with an oof, and Prompto watches in a daze. Ignis hums. “Sloppy, Noct.” 

All right, so they’re doing this. 

Gladio is quick, going in for a hit, but Prompto blocks his swing with a shot to the edge of the blade and Noctis successfully manages to drag himself away. A flash of the armiger, and he’s holding a broadsword of his own, trying to keep up with Gladio’s pace while Prompto is firing shots to keep Ignis distracted. 

Noctis and Prompto, up against Ignis and Gladio, just like old times.

Ignis is one dagger down, Prompto keeping it far away from him now by tucking it in his holster. So he switches his focus to assisting Gladio, summoning a spear instead and listening to the movement of their feet. 

“Too slow, specs!” Noctis chirps, ducking below a swipe and then knocking it away from his face with an upwards strike of the broadsword. But the thing is too weighted down, and Gladio goes in for a hit, but Noctis knows, deep in his bones, that Prompto is there. 

“Prompto!” 

“Hi there, opening!” he cheers, rubber bullet whizzing past. Gladio gets it straight to his gut, and he grunts with the effort. Noctis does that little twisty move, phasing out of the way and kicking the back of Gladio’s legs to let him stumble, He puts his hand at the back so Prompto can give him a low-five. “Nice one, Prompto!” 

“Heh.” 

“Don’t celebrate too fast.” Ignis is suddenly right up behind him, and taps the side of Prompto’s neck with the dull edge of his dagger- where the fuck did he get that? Prompto checks his holster, and- ah, gone. “Iggy!!” he whines, scandalised.  

“Point.” Ignis announces smugly. “All’s fair in love and war, darling.” He kisses Prompto’s cheek. 

Noctis groans. Falling back onto the ground. They’re all panting for a while after. When they all have gotten their bearings back, they’re seated on the floor in a circle, checking over scrapes and bruises. 

Gladio in particular, frowns at the bruising on his stomach, so Ignis hands him a well-prepared potion. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Gladio.” he says in acknowledgement. Gladio grins, “Anything for you, baby. We won after all.” 

“Uh, you did NOT!” Prompto accuses, “We were one for one!’ 

“Oh, so you wanna go again?”

“I didn’t say that.” 

“Accept the defeat then.” 

“You suck!” 

The laughter makes Noctis smile, relaxing and stretching out his sore back. 

“You used to laugh whenever I messed up my warp.” Noctis muses, eying Gladio’s choice of weapon. “It wasn’t easy, you know. The weight of that thing is insane. Hard as hell to balance.” 

“What? You wanna try again?” Gladio challenges, gesturing to Noctis’ fallen weapon. Noctis rises to the bait, his face a shit eating grin. Ignis listens as they clamber up. 

Gladio jogs off several feet, giving plenty of space and raises his greatsword, prepared to parry. Noctis judges the distance, and frowns. “Ain’t that too far?” 

Gladio whistles. “ Chicken chicken .” 

Noctis warps in a flash of blue, his arm swinging out in the way it does with greatswords, and when he reappears- 

-he falls flat on his face, barely missing Gladio’s boots. 

Despite himself, Gladio laughs. An easy grin breaking across his face, so bright that even Prompto is speechless. Ignis leans to the side, inquiring from the sound of the warp. Prompto quietly whispers in his ear about what just happened. 

“Your ass is too skinny to warp properly.” Gladio grumbles, setting his weapon aside and picking up a shield instead to continue polishing. One that had seen no use since the Dawn. He drags them both back to their little circle, unceremoniously dropping Noctis, who grumbles in complaint, still humiliated. Gladio smirks. “You’re only good at it with that Engine Blade of yours, or a dagger maybe. Hell, when you’re not wielding anything you’re stumbling like a baby chocobo.” 

“You don’t got muscle, dude.” Prompto idly mentions, before he can shut his mouth. 

“Hey!” Noctis protests. “I got muscles! You just. Can’t see ‘em.” 

It’s such a familiar sentence. Simple, nothing particularly interesting. A routine bicker, a conversation that is ingrained in all their hearts. With the adrenaline wearing off, they realised what they’ve just done. Prompto gasps, emotions suddenly overwhelm him. Ignis has to stop the scream from ripping out of his throat. Gladio drops the shield. 

Noctis is grumbling, trying to get back on his feet. He winces, as if his back were hurting him and his knee can’t take his weight. Prompto watches him move, distantly knowing that, by now, they would’ve helped him up. But no one moves. 

Realising everything has gone quiet, Noctis frowns, and looks up. “What? Not going to help me up, big guy? You’re getting mean.” Big blue-grey eyes stare at Gladio, eyebrows furrowed like he just ate some hidden beans in his food. “What? What’s wrong? I-,” 

Gladio hurls his shield at Noctis, pouncing on him with a wild craze. A flash of panic dances across Noctis’ face, his hands instinctively grasping at the hands around his neck. “What the fuck!” he gasps in a shout. 

Gladio throws him across the room, just like the glaive that Prompto mentioned , Ignis thinks deliriously. They’re both standing now, Prompto hot on Gladio’s heels and Ignis already summoning all their weapons back to them in the armiger. 

Noctis hits the wall, and his gasp is gut wrenching, full of pain and shock. Ignis feels his heart stop, an elixir already in hand, but that’s not Noct. So he banishes it, listens to Gladio’s thundering footsteps instead. 

Noctis runs, but he can’t get away fast enough. He makes it about a quarter way of the room before he’s pinned down again. Gladio raises his fist to punch him. To harm Noctis.

But he can’t. 

Gladio freezes, and Prompto’s right. Gladio can’t do it. He can’t. He can’t hurt his king. He shoves himself away, staggering back a few paces. Noctis scrambles up, wincing from his back. Prompto and Ignis are there in an instant. Noctis is about to thank them, but they rush right past him. 

Ignis takes guard, his hearing the best of them for any sneak attacks. Prompto’s gun is in Noctis’ face again while Gladio takes deep breaths, fighting off the panic attack that has become all too common during the Long Night, and the Dawn that followed. 

Noctis heaves, winded. “Guys, what…” he starts, trying to inch closer to Gladio, his feet shuffling. 

“Don’t get any closer.” Ignis demands. “Stop this. Enough is enough. You can go back and tell whoever you serve that you’ve succeeded.” 

“Succeeded in what?!” Noctis asks, confused.  

“Whatever sick game you’re playing!” Gladio growls, angry now that his shock is over. 

It was so easy . To fall back into old times, to spar with Noctis like nothing had ever happened. It had burned all of them now, their wounds pried wide open and the heartache more evident than ever. 

Noctis suddenly stops. He stops it all. He stops wheezing, he doesn’t even breathe. He looks resigned, standing tall, his back and his knee clearly not bothering him. “I thought we were making progress.” He admits. 

“Isn’t that just so convenient for you.” Gladio spits. 

Frustrated, Noctis throws his hands up, a very Noct like gesture. “What else was I supposed to do?” 

“Er, I don’t know, LEAVE?” Prompto grits. His voice shakes, but his hand is steady as ever. 

Noctis softens his face, and says, “If you love me-,” 

“Don’t you dare fucking say that!” Prompto yells, tears spilling over. “Don’t you ever. Not in that voice, not in that body. As if you do anything for love, you face shaping asshole. ” 

Noctis’ face hardens again. “I am. I’m doing it for love.” 

“Love? You’re doing this out of love?” Ignis snaps. “Love isn’t manipulating a person’s feelings, love isn’t taking advantage of the sacrifices another makes to remain at their side, love is not forcing perceptions or a false dream when reality calls.”

“Ah, so you do think it’s a dream come true.” 

“Love isn’t using the body of my King to cause suffering.” 

“I am your King!” Noctis shouts, loud enough for Gladio to raise his shield just a tad higher. The voice rings all around them, something not quite normal, not quite human. 

“Are you?!” Ignis shoots back, not even missing a beat, unflinching even now. “Because Noct would never do this to us. He would never be so heartless as to torment us for his death. He would never intentionally provoke us, goad us into thinking he is something he is not. And you? You-!” 

“I am the manifestation of his love for you! For all you!” Noctis screams at last, eyes shooting to Prompto, to Gladio, before it flicks back to Ignis’ wavering form. “I am him! He is me! Noct is dead, but his love is not!” 

Ignis needs to sit down.

“I am here because none of you will let me leave! He loves you so much, but I am stuck here until you let me go. ” he chokes. “You need to let me go.” 

There’s a pin drop silence. 

“I thought you were a god. An Astral. A messenger. Something.” Prompto whispers. “Not… not…” he loses his words, fresh tears springing to his eyes. Gladio hears the wheeze in Prompto’s chest, and quietly threads their fingers together. 

“And what do you think the Lucis Caelum are exactly?” Noctis responds, just as soft. They’re all standing, stiff as a board. He raises his hands, clearly not wanting to get shot again. “You need to let me go.” he repeats again, sad but firm. “I can’t.” Noctis closes his eyes, pained. “I can’t see you guys suffering like this.”

“How? We love you. You’re asking us to just let you go?” 

“I’m not asking you to stop loving me. I’m asking you to move on. Ignis hasn’t been sleeping. Gladio has more nightmares than Prompto these days. Prompto shoots me in the face.”

“ We made you.” Prompto realises. 

“Everytime you think of me, you think of what ifs. You dream for something else. You huddle yourselves together and you won’t let anyone in. You think you’ve failed me. You haven’t. I love you. None of you have ever failed me.” 

Ignis chokes. “We already buried you.” 

Noctis’ laugh is hollow. “Have you? You’re smart, specs. You know what I mean.” 

He disappears. The sound of crystals echo in Ignis’ ears, and he knows they’re alone. 

Prompto collapses to his knees, gun clattering to the marble ground noisily, hands brought up to his eyes, crushing them into his skull. He starts to wail. Gladio joins him, pulls him close but doesn’t say anything. 

Let him go. 

Ignis turns to the sounds of his lovers crying, and kneels. “We need to say our goodbyes.” 

“We already have!” Prompto snaps, fast as lightning. “We buried him! We mourned him! We drove all the fucking way to Caem and Gladio put his stupid pajamas in that fucking casket we stole from the citadel because Noct would rather that than a fucking uniform and building, and we said goodbye.” 

Ignis can’t do anything but to reach his hands out. 

“Love.” he simply says. “We need to say goodbye.” 

“Iggy’s right. This has gone on for too long.” Gladio says, voice weak and not like him at all. “But where do we even start?” 

“There’s one place we haven’t been to in Lucis.” Ignis says. He knew the moment Noctis said they had to let him. When the Phoenix Down in his office is too stiff to be usable, crumbling at the edges but not quite to dust. 

Prompto stares at him, Ignis can feel its intensity. “No. I’m not going there.” 

“We have to see it, Prom.” 

“There is nothing there.” 

“Precisely.” 

“Gladio- Gladio, back me up here!” 

“...” 

“GLADIO!” 

Ignis feels the familiar prick of tears in his permanently ruined eyes and pinches them together. “Noctis is suffering.” he says simply. Gladio’s response is quick, “He said it himself, he’s not Noctis.” 

“Yes, and did you hear the REST of what he said?” Ignis snips back. 

The repeated bursts of silence are starting to wear on them, Ignis knows. Knows they carry Noct with them everywhere they go. 

“We need to say goodbye. To accept that he’s gone. He’s been saying it all along.”

“Literally spelled it out for us.” Gladio huffs.

“Dick.” Prompto sniffs. “Fine. Let’s go to Angelgard.”

Angelgard is freezing, the temperature might as well match the snowy plains of Gralea. When they disembark from the boat they borrowed, he’s there, waiting for them. 

He looks sad, but proud. The lighting washes out the colour of his face, making him blur together in a mix of grey. He looks tired, dead. 

“Noct?” 

“Missed you guys.” 

They crash into him, Noct’s arms are warm around them. He breathes them all in, kisses all of them, wipes the tears that haven’t stopped flowing since they fought in the training hall the day before. 

“Did you mean it?” Gladio asks. 

Noct doesn’t have to ask what he means. “Yeah. You guys gave me the best life. Yeah we fought, bickered like we were 12. But we love each other, you let me hold your hands, kissed you, and y’know. Other stuff.” Noct grins. “Sorrow and bliss and all that, but if you ask me, there was a whole lot of bliss. You didn’t fail me.” 

The three of them just looks at him, choking back tears. “C’mon. Let me show you where I woke up.” 

“Was it lonely?” Prompto asks. 

“What? Waking up or in general my royal life?” 

Prompto stares at him like he’s stupid. Which, fair enough. 

“Yeah it was lonely. You kidding? Crown is heavy. Never really understood that until dad died.” Noct is staring at the empty spot where the crystal used to sit. Now just a small hole in the middle of all that stone and seawater. “But then… I had you. I had Ignis. Gladio. Cor, Cindy, Cid, Aranea. It wasn’t so bad:” 

Now that they’re here, they dont really know what to say. Everything happened so fast, and honestly, it still feels like they’re in a dream; a wonderful, horrible dream. 

Gladio looks around the cave. Cold, dark, wet as hell and freezing. There’s frost along the edges of the entrance. If he listens well enough, he can hear… echoes. Voices. A short glance at Ignis confirms this fact. 

“What is this place?” Prompto manages. 

Noct shrugs. “Pick up a history book.”

“Noct. Please.” 

Noct bites his lip.  “There’s a dormant power here. I don’t know what, or why, but you’re only allowed here because of me.” 

“Allowed.” Ignis echoes, thoughts far away. Noct grabs his hand, grips them together tight. “Allowed, Iggy. I’m dead. This is dangerous territory. You can’t come back here. After.” 

Hearing it from Noct makes everything a lot more colder, a lot more real. 

“How do we… let you go.” Prompto broaches. Noct tilts his head, a habit he never broke out of when he’s actually thinking about the words he wants to use. 

“I didn’t think that far.” He ends up saying. 

Ignis sighs. Gladio smacks a palm to his face and rubs. “How typical.” 

Noct grins, his hands still holding onto Ignis’. “If you do it together, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’re here. I think… I think that’s enough.” 

Three of them aren’t so sure. It’s hard to let go of the love of your life, knowing they died from some prophecy . Their life never really their control, at the whims of beings like Astrals and gods. 

Ignis thinks of when he put that ring on, and thinks he should’ve given Bahamut a piece of his mind, and maybe even more. 

“It could’ve been me.” Ignis mutters. Gladio and Prompto zone in on him immediately, protests at their lips, but Noct just holds him closer. 

“That’s insane and you know it. None of us could’ve controlled this. Could’ve decided who died.” 

Ignis tries very hard not to cry. “We’ll never see you again.” 

“That’s not true. You’ll just have to die someday.” He means it as comfort. Prompto snickers, his heart not really in it. 

“Someday is a long way off.” Gladio mutters. Noct smirks, “It better be. If you kick the bucket anytime soon I’m kicking it back to the land of the living.” 

“What, you believe in the afterlife?” Gladio snorts, even through the tears. Noct shrugs, leaning down to sit on the ledge, waves crashing on the rocky stone. His feet dips in, reaches all the way to his calves, Ignis kneels by him, feels the cold water, and shivers. 

He thinks about going to the citadel again, and says “I mean, I did see Luna. Dad. Clarus.” Noct trails off. 

Prompto pulls Noct in, and crushes him into a hug. “This feels like a goodbye.” 

“It is, Prom.” Noct replies gently, “But goodbyes don’t last forever right?” 

They don’t say anything, clutching Noct closer instead. “You guys are the best. I love you. Walk tall.” He repeats his final words, making Prompto absolutely bawl harder. Gladio hides in his neck like he can hide himself from the world. Ignis just stares into the darkness, and the blip of light in front of him, beyond the scars of his vision. 

“On your mark?” Noct offers, petting Prompto’s hair. Ignis allows himself to cry quietly, leagues different from Prompto’s sobbing and Gladio’s sniffs. Just as heart breaking. 

Ignis shakes his head. “On your mark, Noct.” He kisses Noct one last time, lets Prompto and Gladio do the same. 

They gently push him into the water.