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No one asked to be born a prince. Nobody asked to have a destiny thrust upon them. Noctis never wanted to be the 'Chosen King', but there he was, and it was a little hard to forget because someone was always reminding him.
It wasn't that he hated his life or anything. He had everything he needed, and almost anything he could want, and he was aware that not everybody was afforded these luxuries. He was lucky to have been born a prince. But the wealth and fame came with a lot of responsibilities, even before there was any inkling that he'd have to save the world. After all, he had a reputation to uphold (a family reputation; as a little child, he hadn't quite had the time to form his own). So he was given tutors and trainers and maids and retainers to mold him into a perfect little royal.
He loved Gladio and Ignis. They were practically his brothers (from other mothers --and fathers, and social classes, who certainly never received the same deferential treatment that Noctis did). But they, too, were raised with that singular goal in mind: do whatever it takes to make the prince into a successful king. And they were serious about it. As much fun as they had sometimes, especially once they were out on the road, they were always ready to remind Noctis of his duty if it seemed he was losing sight of it.
And his father, well, of course his father loved him, and Noctis loved him in return, but King Regis was just that-- the king. He did a great job balancing his two priorities, being a monarch and being a father, but he could never throw one to the wayside for the sake of the other. To him, Noctis would always be both son and prince. It was non-negotiable.
Even Luna, who Noctis sometimes felt was particularly special, who he thought could perhaps see into his soul, still didn't seem able to separate him from his title, his destiny.
But there was one person around whom Noctis could forget that he had such a heavy, burdensome fate.
Prompto was born and raised a commoner. This was something that most others would see as a disability to his befriending the future king. It was certainly something that people raised eyebrows over, that Noctis would willingly accept the average young man into his social circle when it was clear that he had no business there by anyone else's standards. But Prompto was special, and it was perhaps this ordinariness that helped make him so.
It wasn't that Prompto was ever rude (no more than was probably normal for a teenager, anyway), but he rarely, if ever, treated Noctis like royalty. In his eyes, Noctis was not the future ruler of their kingdom, or the vessel that held some divine cosmic power, but a clever, silly, sleepy, sometimes brooding teenager-- not all that unlike himself. Noctis was his best friend. He knew that there were expectations piled high upon him, fates and destinies and duties that Noctis never chose; there was no way Prompto could have been ignorant of them even before they'd met. But he didn't dwell on them, and he didn't focus on them.
Furthermore, it sometimes seemed he was the only one who didn't prioritize them.
The journey to Altissia was more complicated than any of them could have expected. From the minor difficulties of survival and travel to the more severe issues of figuring out how to deal with the empire and the presumed death of most everyone they'd known back home, not least of which was the king, it was a stressful period to say the least. They still had fun, maybe more than they should have, considering the circumstances, but the farther they went and the more dire the situation became, the heavier Noctis' fate weighed on him.
It weighed on the other three as well, and they dealt with it in their own ways. Ignis made sure that Noctis was taken care of. Gladio trained and tested the prince. Prompto distracted him. They all worried, for Noctis and for the world.
After the Hyrdaen's trial, the tenuous grasp the group had on harmony and hope was all but lost. Ignis did his best to support Noctis, but there was little he could do to even support himself after the loss of his eyesight. Gladio pushed harder against what he saw as the prince's lack of resolve, badly reconciling his grief and duty. Prompto hung on for dear life as the situation spiraled out of control. Noctis battled with his fate as they watched and wondered if he'd accept it in time to make a difference.
And then came the crystal, the twist none of them could have foreseen, and their expectations and hopes didn't matter anymore because Noctis was gone. His fate had been set in motion.
He would return one day, if the prophecy was to be believed. And for the most part, they did. They had to believe it, for there was nothing else. There was no other way for the darkness to end, so they took stock in the myth of their king becoming their savior and prayed for his return.
Ignis and Gladio, raised as they'd been to always defend the prince, tried not to fall prey to despair over losing him, failing him, failing the country and the world in their inability to end the fight before the darkness could fall. They'd had a duty, to support him in his destiny, and they'd left it incomplete. So they waited, alone, apart, each in their own dark world, until the moment they could come back together to help Noctis finally see to his fate.
Prompto lived. As best he could, he lived and waited and remembered and wished that it was someone else who had to be embroiled in this terrible plot-- anyone other than his best friend, who'd never asked to be born with such great pain already waiting for him. He wished there was something they could do-- something they could have done-- to free Noctis, not just of the crystal but of this unfair situation. Between the four of them, had they really been powerless to save him? Or had they just not tried hard enough, too caught up in the idea of destiny? Unfortunately, he knew at this point that there was nothing left but waiting, so he did.
In the crystal, a silent storm raged. What existed anymore of the consciousness of Noctis Lucis Caelum was swept into a hurricane of self-discovery and compromise. He floated in an interminable sea of memories and possibilities. Woes washed through him, regrets for things he'd been unable to do, and longing for things he'd never be able to do again. 'It's not fair,' he thought, humanity struggling to retain itself. He'd only wanted to live. He'd only wanted to be, and to continue being. He'd only wanted a future. Was it so much to ask? But he was surrounded by the light and the power of the kings who'd come before him, burning with their expectations. They seared into him that which he'd been told his whole life, that duty was paramount, and he knew it to be true despite his mortal desires.
When he emerged from the crystal, he was ready to do what must be done.
The others were pleased to see him-- on one hand ecstatic, on the other hand jaded and worn down from ten years of waiting in darkness. They all knew what came next, and they set off to it without a second thought. They fought hard beside each other, flow just barely interrupted by the tension, but buffered by resolve.
Finally, the last calm moment came before the end, before they finally saw what finale fate had in store. They sat, quiet, while memories played in their minds like soft background music and visions of tomorrow flickered through their fore-thought. And then Noctis broke the silence with an admission they had all come to expect.
“I can't say how much I appreciate everything you guys have done for me,” he said, his head hanging low between his shoulders as he hunched over his knees, like that was the highest he could pull himself. “I wish I could be here in the morning to watch the sunrise with you but... after tonight, I won't be coming back.”
Ignis tried to stifle a single quiet little sob, rubbing beneath his glasses. Gladio huffed and nodded. Prompto stared. Then he shook his head, scruffed his hand through his hair in a stunted angry gesture.
“Noct... No... You can't be okay with this.”
Noctis licked his lips; they'd become so dry. “I am,” he said. “If it means I can protect the people I love--” He looked hard at Prompto, swept his gaze across the other two and closed his eyes resolutely. “--then yeah, I am okay with it. I have to be.”
Prompto's mouth hung open a fraction as he fought to respond. “There's-- there's gotta be another way! Noct, you can't just die! People need you!”
“No, people need not to be tormented by daemons. People need the sun.” Noctis breathed in heavily through his nose, the beginnings of a sob if he couldn't control it; a deep, steeling breath because he could. “And the only way to bring back the light is with the power of the kings. I'm willing to sacrifice myself to end this. It's my duty as king.”
Prompto scoffed. “That's bullshit, Noct! You know there's way more to being a king than just fulfilling some destiny they gave you at birth! The king's supposed to be there for his people! You can't just throw your life away and hope that's gonna fix everything. Think about all the people who sacrificed themselves for you. They didn't do it just for you to die!”
A harsh frown settled over Noctis's face, drawing his dark grey eyebrows down to shadow the anger in his eyes. But Prompto wasn't done; he wouldn't let Noctis respond until he'd hit as low and hard as he could.
“Think about Luna!” he shouted. “She'd want you to live!”
“Prompto!” Gladio called, quietly shocked and admonishing, while Ignis sucked in a surprised breath. But within the short seconds after Gladio's outburst, the both of their faces fell and it was clear they were ashamed they hadn't spoken up as well. All the years of training, but it was the commoner who had the king's best interest at heart.
The calm over Noctis broke. “Do you think I want to die?!” he yelled. “I know! Everything you're telling me, I know! I wanted to live, but. But there's no other way. Guys... there's nothing else I can do.”
He crumpled further into himself, gasping softly, and his three companions stood as some half-instinct to protect him kicked in.
“Noct...” Ignis said quietly, unsure, stopping himself from rushing over. Gladio stood beside Ignis, brushed up against his elbow. He said nothing, but he didn't have to.
Prompto let his feet carry him almost all the way to Noctis' side. “Noct, I'm sorry. I didn't mean--”
“No,” Noctis said, interrupting him as he tried to shake the tears loose from his head, as if hoping it would clear the tumultuous emotions away as well. “No-- thank you.” He reached out blindly and managed to grab Prompto's hand. He gripped it tight, then held the other out for his remaining companions, who came forward to share it between them.
“Thank you,” he repeated, gently and with a small melancholy smile. “It means a lot to me. I can't change what needs to be done. I still have to do this. But... knowing that you care...”
“Of course we care,” Gladio said, his voice low and rumbling.
Ignis stroked the back of Noctis' hand with his thumb, in lieu of meeting his gaze. “You're more than just our king, Noct,” he said. “You're our brother; our friend. I'm only sorry there's not more we can do.”
Noctis breathed a tiny laugh through his nose, the audial representation of his smile. “No, I'm sorry. Sorry I won't be there for you all, after you've been there for me all this time.”
“Hey, instead of everyone being sorry about the situation, why don't we just find a way to fix it?”
Everyone turned to Prompto, who had a grimace on his otherwise earnest face. Gladio and Ignis backed off a step even as he looked to them for help. This wasn't something they could explain to him; it wasn't their place.
Noctis stood, Prompto's hand still held in his, and pulled him into a hug. He didn't say anything, just laid his head on Prompto's shoulder and let out a heavy breath. He wrapped his arms around his well-meaning friend and closed his eyes when Prompto finally returned the gesture with shaking hands.
“I'm just... gonna miss you,” Prompto finally said, drawing a ragged breath.
Calm as starlight, Noctis nodded against Prompto's hair. “I'm gonna miss you too.”
They stayed that way for minutes more, still in the endless night, then gathered near the other two and sat, shoulders to shoulders, knees against knees, taking in the rare warmth and trying not to think that it was the last time. The next warmth they would feel would be the sun's rays, and they knew it would pale in comparison. It would feel incomplete.
There was nothing more for them to say to one another when they reached the vast stone steps of the palace, wherein lie the throne and the destiny that had been awaiting its king for years untold. Noctis took several steps and turned back, despite himself. His companions were half-turned toward him, caught as much as he was between fulfilling their duty and following the pull of their tired heartstrings. Before he could change his mind, he gave them a last nod and tore his shining eyes away. He climbed the steps, reigned in the thin tremors that shook through his core, and pushed ahead.
'You can do this,' he told himself, just a quiet voice echoing in the black pit in the back of his brain, a voice that sounded too alive and cheerful to be his. But it was a good voice, an honest little echo, so he took the throne and called the Armiger and closed his eyes as the stunning light of the past kings' swords surrounded him.
Once again, Noctis stood in the familiar ether, ringed in by the imposing figures of those who'd stood here in generations before.
“Oh kings of Lucis, I ask for your power this one last time, to rid the world of the evil that plagues it.”
'to fell the impostor', 'to cleanse the kingdom', 'to defeat the starscourge', 'to return light to the land'
He could feel them around him, speaking in deep bright soundless voices, filling in the details he hadn't said.
'and you are ready?' they asked. 'ready to fight?' 'to add your might to ours?' 'to give yourself fully to the cause?' 'to see this to the end?'
Noctis wanted to say yes. He meant to. He intended to pour himself singlemindedly, wholeheartedly into his goal, his destiny, but in this terminal between realms, he could not hide his true thoughts.
“I'm not ready to leave,” he said, despite willing himself not to, shivering despite willing himself not to. “There's so much more I want to do. For my kingdom. For my friends. ...For myself.”
But he could feel their presences growing, shifting, standing taller to loom over him. 'the king must. the king must forfeit his power. the king must die.'
“I know,” Noctis said, forcing himself to raise his face and meet their nebulous gazes as much as he could. “That's why I came. It has to be done. I'm not ready, but I'm willing. Whether you help me or not, I know I have to end this.”
An oppressive silence reigned loud and full around him, before the kings seemed to say, 'we accept' and he was filled with the intensity of their power. He felt that every last inch of him was twice as heavy as before; his brain, his muscles, his heart, his lungs, all brimming with supernatural ability and the raw desire to destroy the enemy that brought them to this. Noctis choked back both nausea and some unidentifiable emotion as he was pulled back into the darkness of the mortal plane. Then he went to battle.
Ardyn didn't stand a chance. It wasn't a surprise; it had never been a question of who would win, once the kings had joined together. Noctis got the feeling that even Ardyn knew it, that he welcomed oblivion as he was cast into it. The kings didn't hold back, and neither did Noctis. They destroyed the daemon, and destroyed themselves in the process, until naught was left but the stardust they were born from. Noctis closed his eyes and said a final goodbye to the world, and didn't shy back from infinity as it drew him forward.
But he never reached it. He fell into a grand nothingness, but when he woke it was not to the empty void. It was not to any version of Heaven. It was not to darkness. When he woke, it was to crushed asphalt pressing into his cheek, and a tinge of pink peeking over the horizon, and the sound of hurried footfalls rushing in his direction. It was to the worst headache he'd ever imagined and a panicked yelling. He closed his eyes against it.
The sound was irritating and painful until Noctis realized who it was and what it meant. He groaned as he tried to turn himself over, but there were already hands helping him before he could manage-- strong steady hands, and nervous flittering ones, and voices calling his name through the fleeting night.
“Noct!”
“He's alive?”
“Oh my god, Noct. Noct! Come on, buddy, please...”
Worried, shaking fingertips stopped their roaming when they found his shoulders, digging into the ornate material of his sleeves, gripping them like a lifeline. Noctis opened his eyes and saw Prompto leaned over him, his face set in devastation and verging on a hope it didn't fully ascend to until he saw the king's gaze catch on his.
“How?” Prompto asked. “We thought you were dead! Our weapons-- the magic--”
Noctis didn't have an answer or steady-enough a breath to give one. He looked to Gladio, kneeling behind Prompto, and Ignis, standing behind Gladio, each of them looking like they'd just witnessed a miracle in the aftermath of a tragedy. If this wasn't a dream, then maybe they had.
Wearily, Noctis raised his right hand and set it on Prompto's shoulder. It was solid, and he could feel the thin trembling that coursed through his friend like electricity. On his own hand he could see the ring. The brilliant glow of the rising sun glinted off of it, but its ethereal aura was gone. It weighed heavy on his finger like metal ought, but no longer did it strain and pull at him; no longer did it hold quite the weight of the world.
And as Prompto had haltingly implied, the magic was gone. Noctis could feel it like a blessed emptiness in him, and he understood.
'the king must die,' the spirits of the past had said. And he had. The king was dead, and with him the magic that had ruled their world for so many generations. The man who woke here, who rose along with the long-awaited sun, was no longer a king. He was simply a man, reborn to walk in daylight with his people.
The light was blinding. It stung at his eyes as the sun rose quickly into the lightening sky and drew tears from them. Laughter bubbled up from his chest along with quiet sobs of relief, and Noctis pulled Prompto down against him so he could cry and laugh into his shoulder and feel the warmth of another's life pressed close. Prompto took the cue and followed suit until the two of them were a rumbling mess of tears and joy, crumpled together on the ground. They sat up before too long so they could both watch the brilliant sun as it climbed higher. They were joined again by Ignis and Gladio, whose faces shined just the same with signs of tears, and the four of them sat in the middle of the destroyed city and witnessed the start of the new day as it graced them with its presence.
Here among the wreckage of his home, surrounded by the unmarked graves of his father and many of his people, still reeling from the pain they'd suffered in that last long night, Noctis Lucis Caelum tilted his head to track the ascent of the sun and the warmth of its rays as they landed on his face, and finally felt at peace.