Work Text:
Ignis had always played, was grateful his parents had basically forced him to learn an instrument, but it wasn't until his accident that he could fully appreciate music. He'd always thought of it as a way to pass the time, get lost in thought or to play his problems away, but now, without his sight, it was everything to him. The world was music, cacophonous more often than not, but every sound was a note of something bigger, something beyond a human's grasp. Every breath part of a melody, one he tried to emulate when his fingers danced on his cello, lost in the flow more than ever. He had even started to compose, following the rules he had learnt as a child only by instinct, weaving the noises he was connected to so strongly into a picture, showing his audience how he "saw" the world, bright and beautiful even in almost total darkness.
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He had lamented the loss of his sight at the beginning, but he was a practical man, and found himself continuing on soon after his injuries had healed, off-kilter at first, slowly but surely regaining the grace and control he’d always had. It hadn’t been easy, his friends and family irritating him more often than not, coddling him, pitying him. Ignis didn’t need pity or coddling, only support and faith. Faith he got from an unexpected source, and Noctis would be reprimanded for not caring about Ignis’s injury by their friends, but it was what he needed. The young prince had blamed himself for the accident, brooding and sulking, but he hadn’t coddled Ignis, instead he went on as usual, but didn't expect anything from his friend. It may have been selfish of the prince, but Ignis found it a little refreshing back then, to just be treated as Ignis, not a product of his injuries.