Archive of Our Own

Ignis had accepted his loss of sight a long time ago. It had been over ten years, and he’d grown used to the darkness. He could find his way around almost without help now. He’d taken up cooking again, and his fighting skills had returned with practice. He hunted daemons, made meals, and took care of himself just like he used to. He was used to being blind now.

But he had never hated it more than when Noctis returned.

He couldn’t see Noctis with his own eyes. He didn’t get to have a moment where he turned around and there was his king. Noctis had to announce himself and Ignis had to trust his ears to hear his voice. But he didn’t get to see.

Prompto tugged on his arm and Ignis smiled, glancing at him, but his attention was immediately diverted to the direction of Noctis’ short greeting. His chest felt tight and his stomach lurched at the sound of Noctis’ voice. It was deeper, raspy like he’d just woken up. Noctis was older, just like they were. Ten years had passed and Ignis would never get to see how Noct had grown. “You kept us waiting,” he replied. It wasn’t sufficient.

There was a long pause and Ignis wondered briefly if he’d said something upsetting. Then a hand landed on his shoulder. He started for a moment, then turned to the direction of the presence beside him. “Not like I wanted to,” Noct’s voice sounded softly and clear. There was a sad smile in his voice and Ignis wanted to reach out to him. He felt grounded with that hand on his shoulder. It felt like Noctis was really here, instead of one of the floating voices around him. He had never forgotten the face of his king. His own face, Gladio’s face, Prompto, Cindy, Iris… all faded and blurred memories. Noctis’ face he could remember with clarity. It haunted his dreams and his waking hours for ten years. He suspected it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

All he could picture now was a twenty year old Noct standing next to him – not quite carefree, but less burdened. The hand, however, felt heavy. Noctis squeezed his shoulder briefly before dropping it and Ignis knew from the touch alone that the king was no longer the same twenty year old. He carried something far heavier, the weight of a man, no longer a boy, who had a destiny fast approaching.

They took time at Hammerhead to sit together and talk. Ignis placed himself next to Noctis as Gladio and Prompto told him about the last ten years. He chimed in every now and then to add or correct something, but otherwise remained quiet. With his sight gone, his other senses were heightened and he was more aware of Noct’s presence beside him than ever. It was sadly unfamiliar to him, unlike Gladio or Prompto, and that fact made his heart ache. Had he changed so much that he and Noct might never be the same? Had Noct changed too much?

When they made camp the next night – if it could be called that given the constant darkness – Noctis revealed the gods’ plan for him and Ignis realized he wouldn’t have the time to become familiar with Noct’s presence again.

Ignis stayed by the fire while the others went off to bed. He stared into the flames, the only thing he could even remotely see. He never lost the ability to sense light, not that it mattered much in the world they lived in right now. The sounds of the fire crackling and the wind blowing softly around the camp soothed him and he momentarily forgot about the impending grief the next day would bring. Gladio’s snores sounded from within the tent and with his lids shut he could almost pretend like he was ten years younger. They’d made camp for the night on their way down to Galdin Quay after a long day of hunts. Prompto was rifling through his pictures while Gladio slept beside him, choosing his favorites and discarding the ones that didn’t turn out properly. Noctis would already be asleep, quiet and peaceful, even though he’d taken an hour long nap in the Regalia just a short while ago. He was outside of the tent, putting away dinner plates and planning the meal for the morning before joining his friends in rest.

But when his eyelids opened he was still surrounded by darkness.

He sighed deeply and put his head in his hands, removing his glasses. Tomorrow he would lose Noctis – for good this time. The world would be saved, but his world would always remain dark. His world would be gone.

“Can’t sleep?”

Immediately Ignis sat up, self-consciously wiping at his eyes despite the lack of tears. He put his glasses back on, and turned his head opposite from Noctis’ voice. “Haven’t tried yet,” he admitted.

The chair next to him moved as Noctis sat down, scratching on the rock beneath it as it was moved closer to him. “Ignis,” Noctis murmured.

He didn’t have to say anything else. Ignis knew what he was looking for. “I’ll be fine, Noct,” he replied, trying his best to sound reassuring. He turned his head towards Noctis now, hoping he didn’t look as disheveled as he feels. “Thank you for your concern.”

Silence. Ignis could feel Noctis’ eyes on him and suddenly felt embarrassed. He wasn’t sure how presentable he was right now and could now feel the press of his clothing against his skin, the awkward way his glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. Were they askew? Was his shirt too tight? Prompto always reassured him that he looked good, but he could only take another’s word for it. He pushed a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s impolite to stare,” he said.

“Sorry,” Noct replied and Ignis could hear in his voice that he was startled to be caught. “I just… I’ve never really looked at the scars before.”

Ignis winced, reaching up to scratch his cheek. “Ah,” he hummed quietly. “I’ve never seen them myself. I once asked Prompto to describe them to me. I gather they’re rather ghastly.”

Noctis didn’t reply. Ignis heard the chair moved closer to him until Noct’s knees brushed against his so they were sitting directly in front of each other. “I’m sorry,” Noctis said firmly.

That was surprising. “Noct?” Ignis raised an eyebrow, moving his head towards Noctis’ voice.

“This is ten years too late but I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice steadfast. “I put my own pain and grief before you and that wasn’t fair. I wasn’t there for you.”

“That’s hardly your fault,” he replied gently. “You were taken by the Crystal. You didn’t have the choice—”

“Before that,” Noctis interrupted. He felt closer than before, but Ignis couldn’t be sure. Instinctively he sat back, trying to put distance between them should there be a need. “Before the Crystal. After Altissia. You were in pain and all I could focus on was myself. I’m sorry, Ignis.” He sounded desperate and there was a slight break in his voice.

“You needn’t apologize, Noct,” Ignis told him. “Lady Lunafreya had just passed. Grief takes time. I don’t blame you nor am I angry with you.”

“You should be. I had weeks to mourn Luna, but you were right there. You were hurt but you were still there for me.” Noctis put a hand on his knee and Ignis shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “After everything you’ve done for me, I treated you terribly and I’m sorry.”

Ignis swallowed. “There is nothing to forgive,” he said lowly. “I grieved with you. Then after, I grieved for you. And I will grieve for you again soon.” He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out. His hand made contact with Noctis’ arm, and he put his hand securely around it. “I am here because of you – I am here for you, Noct. Don’t waste the time we have left ten years in the past.” He wanted to add something but the simple words of I missed you didn’t seem to cover all that he was feeling.

Noctis removed his hand from Ignis’ knee and for a breath, he thought he’d said the wrong thing. But then fingers brushed his cheek, then moved to the skin beneath his spectacles. Without a word, Noct hesitantly nudged at the glasses, a silent question in the gesture. When Ignis did not object, he felt Noctis put his fingers around the stems and pulled them from his face. He closed his eyes, tilting his head down.

He could hear Noctis breathing, a quiet, sharp intake of breath. “Ignis…” was all that was whispered. Noct brought his hand under Ignis’ chin, lifting his face carefully to get a better look at him. When he did not object, Ignis felt fingers lightly brush underneath his eye where Prompto told him the largest scar was. Noctis delicately ran his fingers across the marred skin, tracing the pattern of the scar along the edges. Ignis couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped his lips.

“It’s impolite to stare,” he breathed his earlier words so quietly he was unsure if Noctis would even hear him.

There was no reply this time. The hands on his face, much to his disappointment, were removed. He started to follow up his statement to show that his intent was not to get Noctis to stop, but was interrupted by hands on his own. He let his arms go loose and he followed where Noctis guided his hands. The skin he felt against his palm was rough and scratchy with hair. It took a moment for him to realize that this was Noctis’ cheek. “Highness?” he questioned, his hands unmoving.

“This is the only way you can see me.”

Ignis’ breath caught in his throat, any response he had dying on his tongue. He leaned forward, readjusting his position to allow himself both hands. Noct’s hands rested on his forearm, a comfortable, grounding weight. He ran his fingers slowly along his king’s face, establishing the hair as the makings of a beard, and smiled sadly. “You didn’t think to shave?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light but could feel his throat closing. His nose tingled and he blinked rapidly, willing away any tears that threatened to form.

A choked laugh sounded from Noctis. Ignis could listen to his laughter forever. “Figured it would make me look older, maybe more kingly.”

“Indeed,” Ignis agreed quietly, an image of King Regis forming in his head from a memory long lost. “I’m sure you’re looking more like your father with each day.”

He moved his hands again, trailing his fingers over Noct’s jaw and chin. His jaw was set, determined and focused. Leaving one hand cupping the lower half of Noctis’ cheek, he moved the other up, carefully brushing his eyes and over his nose. Hair brushed against the back of Ignis hand and, curiously, he pushed his fingers through black hair, hearing a content sigh from Noctis. He moved slowly, all the way down the length. “Your hair is quite long now,” he observed, running his hand through once more.

“Haven’t had my uptight advisor around to cut it for me,” Noct joked, and they both ignored the heavy undercurrent of his words.

Ignis returned the joke with one of his own, “I’m not sure I would be able to cut it for you anymore. At least not in a way fit for a king.”

“Prompto said he liked it this way.”

Ignis hummed in response, letting his hands wander over Noct’s face again. He could feel how the king’s brow was drawn in, and he ran his fingers along those lines, relaxing the muscles. “Don’t worry about me,” he said firmly, feeling bold as he held Noctis’ face gently in his hands. This didn’t feel real. It felt like he would wake up any second and he would be far away from Noctis. He wanted to seize this moment as it presented itself. There was so little time left for them and he didn’t want to waste a single second.

“Can you still sense light?” Noctis blurted out, louder than what he probably intended.

Ignis paused, taken aback. “To a degree… yes.”

“So when dawn breaks you’ll know it?” A whisper this time and hands were placed on both his shoulders.

He didn’t want to reply this time. Maybe if he didn’t reply, Noctis wouldn’t go through with this. Maybe he would stay right here with him and never let go. He pulled Noctis in so their foreheads pressed together and squeezed his eyes shut so he was incapable of letting any tears escape. Even without sight, this was a moment he would always remember. It would be burned into his memories for all his years to come, it would be in his dreams and his thoughts as a constant for the rest of his life. And maybe if he didn’t answer, the moment would never end.

“I should.”

“Good to know.”

Ignis was unsure of how much time passed as they sat there holding each other. He cursed himself for answering and even more for allowing this. In all his years working for the crown, he knew his feelings were improper. Nothing would come from them except pain and heartbreak, but at a certain point he’d fallen too far to ever climb back out. Noctis was his king. And he loved him. His control of the situation was always well contained and he never slipped up. Every touch, every smile, every laugh would always cause a skip of his heart or a lurch of his stomach, but it never showed. Gladio accused him of being too soft on Noctis, but Ignis knew it was only that all he desired was to see his prince, now his king, happy.

Instead, even after all his work, Noctis was going to sacrifice his happiness and his life for the dawn. It wasn’t fair. Ignis gripped Noctis tighter. He wanted to hold him here and guard him from all of the pain that was going to follow them tomorrow. He wanted to give his life instead. He was far less important than the king. Why did it have to be Noctis? The gods were cruel and he hated them for it. After everything Noct has been through, why did they have to take him away?

“I love you,” Ignis breathed. His voice was quiet but steady, unwavering in his resolve to seize this final moment. Impropriety mattered little now for soon he would be an advisor to no one.

Noctis didn’t say a word. Ignis kept his eyelids closed and his hands unmoved from Noct’s face. The king shifted and Ignis thought he was going to pull away. Then there was a brush of lips against his own and, startled, he was the one to pull back. His hands fell and he straightened, his eyes opening out of habit but his world stayed black. He stared into nothing, just the direction where Noctis sat.

“Ignis,” he whispered, his hand moving slowly to Ignis’ cheek. Ignis felt him pull slightly and it felt like everything around them fell away as he leaned back in, feeling no control over his actions and just Noct’s magnetic presence in front of him.

Their lips brushed against one another, hesitant at first. Noctis’ lips were surprisingly soft, but still chapped along the edges. Once again Ignis felt like he was in a dream and he would wake up without this having happened. But Noctis pushed his hand through his hair to the back of his head and brought them closer together, reminding him this was real.

It was Ignis that deepened the kiss, parting his lips as he desperately held onto Noctis. Hands slipped down from his cheeks to wrap around his shoulders. In his head he pictured Noct halfway out of the chair as he pressed himself as close to Ignis as he could. He tried to adjust the image he had of his king – older now with a slowly growing beard and longer hair. In his life, he tried to have as little regrets as he could manage; but here now in Noctis’ arms, he couldn’t remember why he waited so long.

They sat together, kissing and holding each other, for several long minutes. Ignis was content with this until one of Noctis’ hands moved from his shoulder to tug at his shirt. He moaned into Ignis’ mouth as his fingers fisted in the fabric, pulling up so the night air brushed against the skin of Ignis’ stomach. “Noct?” Ignis breathed, disconnecting their lips. Noctis didn’t seem to notice as he dropped his mouth to kiss along Ignis’ jaw and down his neck. Ignis couldn’t stop his own, quiet moan as he felt teeth brush lightly against the sensitive skin of his collarbone. Unable to help himself, he let his head fall back to allow Noct full access.

He wasn’t sure when it happened but suddenly Noctis was out of his own chair, straddling Ignis’ hips. Their lips were reconnected with an urgency that was absent before. The king’s hands dropped to the hem of Ignis’ shirt and started to pull. Ignis interrupted the action, darting down quickly to grasp Noctis’ wrists. His long built self-control caused his hesitation – a small voice in the back of his mind whispering about betrothals and duty. “Noct,” he started, breathless and flustered. His voice sounded broken and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to speak. He cleared his throat and tried again, “Noct.”

“You said not to waste our time together,” Noctis stated, his voice clear and resolute. “I don’t intend to.”

Ignis pursed his lips, his grip on Noctis’ wrists loosening as he willed silence upon the voice in his head. That seemed to be enough as the hands moved again, bringing Ignis’ shirt up over his head. He allowed the fabric to be removed, his own hands settling on Noctis’ hips. There was a pause as he felt eyes on him, wandering over his chest and no doubt the scars from his hunting endeavors. He didn’t mention anything about staring this time, instead sitting under Noct’s gaze and pretending not to be self-conscious. Noctis grazed his fingers along Ignis’ abdomen to his hips. “What happened?” he asked quietly.

Ignis took Noct’s hand, lacing their fingers together before lifting it to his lips to place a chaste kiss against the other man’s skin. “I had to relearn how to fight,” he answered.

“You shouldn’t have kept fighting,” Noct chastised him. That was a first. He let his fingers wander up Noctis’ arm absentmindedly, enjoying the feeling of his cool skin. “What would I have done if I’d come back and you weren’t here?”

He couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips. “Certainly not this,” he murmured, leaning forward to connect his mouth with Noctis’ jaw. He felt the king lift his head, allowing him access, and he kissed down to his collar, his tongue darting out to taste the skin.

“I’m serious, Ignis,” Noctis tried to press. “I don’t want you to get hurt. No one else gets to die for me – especially not you.”

Ignis frowned, pulling back and lifting his head. He looked in Noct’s direction, hoping that it felt like his eyes were connected directly to Noctis. “I would die for you,” he replied earnestly. “Were it possible, I would take your place in front of the wrath of the gods.”

He felt Noctis grab his face, bringing him forward to rest their foreheads together once more. “I wouldn’t let you.”

His lids fell closed at the intensity of Noctis’ voice. It struck him to his very core and he gripped Noct’s wrist, hanging on to him like he would float away. “Instead I’ll lose you again,” he managed.

Noctis lifted his head to press his lips to Ignis’ forehead. “Not yet,” he whispered, dropping back down to kiss Ignis again.

It was slower this time, like they could waste time kissing lazily and pretending to be blissful together. It was sweet and full of all the words that went unspoken between them. Noct opened his mouth and the pace sped up, Ignis grabbing Noct’s waist, pulling them tightly together. He grabbed at the bottom of Noct’s shirt in a silent request that was obliged. Their mouths disconnected as Noct lifted his own shirt over his head. Ignis immediately put his hands on the skin of his king’s chest, running his hands over muscles that had become more defined over ten years. The light trail of his fingers caused a quiet, breathy moan from Noct and Ignis felt warm. He slid his hands up, slowly, and pulled Noctis in by his neck, trusting him to correct the path should he have aimed incorrectly. Their lips met again, intense and desperate this time. Ignis was unsure how far this would go, only that he wanted to hear all the pleased sounds from Noctis that he could manage.

“Perhaps we should—” he was interrupted by a kiss, allowing his words to be swept away by Noctis’ tongue against his own. He stifled a groan when Noctis rolled his hips down, fisting his hand in long black hair as he tried to restrain himself. “Move,” he finished his suggestion when they parted briefly for air. Noctis either didn’t hear him, or pretended not to, as he moved his lips down Ignis’ neck. “Noct,” Ignis tried to sound firm but it came out as more of a plea.

Noctis’ lips pulled up into a smile and he trailed his hand after the kisses he left along Ignis’ skin, running his fingers into the hair at the base of his neck. “Move where?” he asked against Ignis’ mouth, his smiling shining through his words. “I don’t think Gladio and Prompto would appreciate it if we moved to the tent.”

The tips of Noctis’ fingers danced through the hair on the back of Ignis’ head. It was distracting, his mind already feeling foggy. Noctis was the only clarity for him right now, the only thing that was keeping him from spinning out of control with the thoughts of what morning would bring. He detangled his own fingers from Noct’s hair, running them down the length of the other’s body to grasp his hips. “That would be quite an… interesting conversation,” he mused, grinning as he nested his nose underneath Noctis’ jaw, breathing him in.

Noctis hummed, leaning his cheek against Ignis’ temple, fingers still absentmindedly running through his hair. “Let’s stay here,” he murmured, his breath warming Ignis’ skin.

I wish you would stay, is what Ignis wanted to say. “Whatever you desire,” he whispered instead, tilting his head up to capture Noctis’ lips in another searing kiss.

“You,” Noctis replied into his mouth, pulling Ignis by the back of his head, hair laced between his fingers.

Ignis moaned, a short and breathy, at Noctis’ response. He grasped tightly to his king’s hips, sliding him forward so their bare chests pressed together. “I am yours,” Ignis told him. “I have always been yours.”

Noctis slid off Ignis’ lap, pulling him into a standing position. Ignis didn’t miss a beat this time – he wasn’t going to miss a single moment – and held onto Noctis by his waist as he stood, reconnecting their lips as the chairs were shoved out of the way. He loved the feeling of stooping to kiss Noctis. It felt natural and right to be able to hold the other man close, Ignis’ head bent down and Noct’s tilted up. Noctis’ arms were draped over Ignis’ shoulder, holding him down as if Ignis would ever move away.

It’s Noctis that pulls back, but doesn’t quite let go. “Blankets,” he says breathlessly. He leans back up and places a lingering kiss to Ignis’ lips before reluctantly detaching himself to disappear into the tent. Ignis stood in the darkness, turning to find the dying light of the campfire.

On nights where Ignis was feeling particularly out of control, he’d allowed himself time to imagine what being with Noctis would feel like. He had to admit that he never pictured the back drop would be next to a fire, a tent with their two best friends, and end of the world glaring over their shoulders. All of his brief fantasies had been indulgences and nothing more. Moments of weakness that he’d given to himself on lonely nights when he couldn’t find the room in his mind for sleep. But this was more. This was more than anything Ignis had ever dared to dream. Everything he had ever imagined had left him feeling shame and disgust at his own weakness. This, however, this was real and it wasn’t something that he would have been able to replicate alone because Noctis was one of a kind. One that would be taken too soon.

He heard Noctis’ footsteps. There was a whoosh as the blanket was spread across the ground, then he felt arms wrap around his waist from behind. Noct’s lips kissed the back of his neck, burying his face between Ignis’ shoulder blades. “Don’t think about it,” he murmured, holding tighter as Ignis put his hands over Noctis’. “Stay here,” Noct continued, pulling Ignis back before his thoughts darkened. Stay here in this moment. Stay here for now. Live now.

“I’m here,” he replied lowly. He turned in Noctis’ arms, reaching for his face and cupping his cheek.

Ignis let Noctis move backwards, guiding him down towards the blanket. The air around them was pleasant, the wind brushing their skin and cooling wet marks left by tongues. Noct laid on his back and Ignis settled on top of him, worshipping his neck then trailing his mouth down to his chest. The king’s breath shortened, quiet groans escaping his lips every so often and Ignis pictured him with his eyes shut, teeth closed over his bottom lip.

“I wish I could see you,” he breathed honestly against Noctis’ skin. A hand reached down to pull him up by his chin, which he obeyed, allowing their lips to reconnect in an apology that Noctis did not have a chance to put into words. “I’m sure you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his mouth ghosting over Noct’s as he ran his hands over the other’s face again. He liked the feeling of the beard beneath his fingers and the strong jaw that had developed as Noctis aged. He put a finger over Noctis’ lips as they opened then swallowed the second attempt at an apology with his lips, silencing the words before they had a chance to fill the space between them.

Ignis felt Noctis’ hands grip his shoulders. He followed the way he was pushed, Noctis switching their positions so that he hovered over Ignis instead. His own hands twisted in dark hair as Noct’s lips found a sensitive spot underneath his ear and he choked back a moan, his hips involuntarily arching up. The rational part of his mind had a moment of panic about the appropriateness of his actions, but he could feel Noctis through their clothes and any qualms he had vanished.

Noctis trailed down Ignis’ body with his mouth, his hands descending faster to toy with the buckle of Ignis’ pants. His breath hitched and he lifted his hips into the touch. He had nothing to look at except the darkness and could do nothing but feel as Noctis kissed and licked the scars on his abdomen. One hand fisted in the blanket underneath them to find something to ground him, the other sliding into the long, black hair of the man over top of him.

“Noct,” he whispered in an attempt to claim the other’s attention. It worked and Noctis paused and Ignis felt his head look up from underneath his hold. “Do you… have you ever done this before?” he asked cautiously.

There was a beat of silence. “No,” Noctis admitted, his voice sheepish. He ducked his head, burying it into Ignis’ thigh. “Have you?”

Ignis sighed, feeling warmth course through his veins at the weight on his thigh. “Ten years is a long time,” he replied noncommittally.

“Anyone I know?” Noctis asked, hearing the answer in the avoidance.

Ignis shook his head. “They were few and far between. No one of note.” Other lonely souls that he connected with on the road between Hammerhead and Tenebrae. Other hunters that went with him on particularly large jobs that warranted more than one blind fighter. All men. All far inferior to the one that Ignis truly wanted. “We don’t have to do this,” he supplied, reaching down to hold Noctis’ face again.

“I want to,” Noctis assured him. “I want you,” he clarified.

“You have me. Always,” he replied with an intensity that made his eyes sting. Always would end too soon.

Inexperienced hands fumbled with Ignis’ belt, Noctis’ breathing erratic and Ignis dropped his head back onto the blanket. He sighed, comfortable underneath the other man, humming when Noctis grazed him through the fabric of his pants. He lifted his hips so Noct could pull the clothes from his legs. He heard the breath Noct sucked in at the sight of him, picking his head back up to reach out for his king. Fingers laced in his own and he squeezed. “Don’t look at the scars,” he whispered. Though he hadn’t seen his own body in a long time, he’d felt the pain of the marks that were surely there. He brought Noctis closer, their hands going above their heads. With his free hand, he stroked a finger down the other man’s cheek with as much tenderness as he could muster.

“I wanted to be here,” Noctis said against his mouth, hovering over him. His face was showered in kisses and it made him want to cry. Everything he ever wanted was right here in his arms and would be taken away before he ever had a chance to truly appreciate it.

Ignis threw his arms around Noctis’ back, burying his face in the king’s shoulder. Noctis adjusted, scattering short kisses along Ignis’ neck and shoulder, letting himself be held. I wanted you here, Ignis thought desperately. I don’t ever want you to leave.

“I missed you.”

He laid here, completely naked – emotionally, physically – opening himself, heart, body and soul, to Noctis entirely. He could feel an apology welling up inside of Noctis’ chest and he drew his head back to connect their lips. It was frantic and fast, like they were both afraid the other was going to disappear right this very moment. It was open mouthed, tongue on tongue, teeth clacking together – but it was perfect.

Ignis slid his hands carefully over Noctis’ back. He knew where the scar was without his sight and he brushed his fingers close to the edge of the sensitive skin, never touching it. His thumbs slid under the hem of Noctis’ pants, pushing them down slightly. Noctis sat up on his knees, Ignis following. He ran his palms along the skin of the other’s hips to find the belt and buttons. He could feel the king’s eyes on him as he slowly worked, drawing the fabric down. Noctis cooperated, stepping out of the pants and settling back down between Ignis’ legs.

His hands found Noctis’ chest again, running over the skin and back up to his neck. “I don’t have… That is to say…” He trailed off. He hadn’t exactly prepared for an intimate night. Ignis wanted this to be nothing short of perfect but he wouldn’t compromise the mission just to feel every part of Noctis that he could.

“It’s okay,” Noct replied softly, touching Ignis’ cheek.

That brought them back together, falling back onto the blanket as they pulled themselves as close as possible. Ignis didn’t think he had ever held on to something as tightly as he clung to Noctis. Perhaps if he held fast enough, this could last forever. Noctis’ name fell freely from his lips, quiet and wanton, and he made sounds he never thought himself capable of when fingers wrapped around his length. Even though the fingers stroking him were inexperienced, it felt better than anyone else Ignis had ever had, slowly and deliberately unraveling his composure. It felt good and right and unlike anything he could have ever imagined because this was real and it meant more than just a lonely night in the back of a breaking down car on the side of the road with a stranger; more than lying in bed by himself, plagued by improper thoughts of the prince who he was supposed to serve, protect and advise.

When Noctis’ lips brushed along the sensitive skin of Ignis’ inner thigh he choked back a moan, reaching down to grab the other man and pull him back up. Noctis let him lead as he switched back their positions. Tentatively, Ignis let his memory guide him as he ran his lips and tongue down Noct’s body. He kissed the crook between thigh and groin, sliding his tongue up Noctis’ length. The sound that fell from his king’s lips spurred him forward as a desperate hand fisted in the hair on the back of his head. Noctis legs scrambled, hooking around Ignis as he worked. He reached up, lacing his fingers together with Noct’s free hand.

“Ignis,” Noctis moaned, the name rolling from his mouth hotly as he fell apart under the care of his advisor. Ignis groaned around him, reveling in the way his name sounded off Noct’s tongue. He wanted to draw out every ounce of pleasure as he could so that this night might be enough.

Noctis lead him back up, grasping at his shoulders and digging his fingers into Ignis’ skin. They leaned into each other, hips rolling together and skin grinding against skin. Ignis buried his face into the crook of Noctis neck, stifling the sounds that passed through his lips and Noctis had his arms thrown around Ignis’ shoulders, holding onto him like an anchor. They moaned the other’s name in staccato as lengths rutted against one another, hot and aching.

Noctis’ moans were broken, verging on sobs, as he reached completion first. His hips rose off the ground, pushing shamelessly into Ignis, fingers scrambling for purchase on Ignis’ back. He choked out Ignis’ name, burying his head into the blanket as he slid his body against the one over him. Ignis obeyed Noct’s pleas and held him through the aftershocks as his release settled through his entire body. He groaned against Noctis’ skin, aching to follow Noct to his own relief.

As if in response to an unspoken request, Noctis’ hand slid between them, grasping Ignis with confidence that was previously absent. He whispered words into Ignis’ ear that he couldn’t quite register, lost in the hot air being blown on his skin and the way Noctis somehow moved his fingers exactly right over him. He leaned his forehead against Noctis’, holding his face in his hands – the feeling of the beard underneath his palm and a dampness on his fingertips below his king’s eyes. He gasped, his own tears threatening to spring forth and he squeeze his eyes shut. Ignis let Noctis’ name slip past his lips as he hit his own release.

Ignis collapsed against Noctis, trying to ignore the stickiness between their chests. His head on Noctis’ shoulder, hiding underneath the king’s chin. Noctis ran a hand through his hair and it’s the most relaxed Ignis has felt in years. His eyes are closed and his breathing is evening out as he absentmindedly traces his finger over the skin of Noctis’ hip. His lips are pulled up into a small smile that he can barely contain and he sighs, for just a moment forgetting that it’s the end of the world and in a matter of hours the man beneath him would be gone.

One of Noctis’ hands is gliding over his back, rubbing comforting circles over his shoulder blades. He hears a shuddering breath and is about to ask when he feels a teardrop fall onto his forehead. He picks his head up, reaching to cup Noct’s face in his palm. They don’t need words this time, both leaning in for a kiss. And it’s miserable. The kiss is sad and closed-mouthed, just skin to skin contact to reassure each other that they are still here. Both of their hands find the way to the other’s face, pulling and breathing deeply through their noses, and Ignis manages to fight off his tears. Noctis doesn’t manage the same and he can feel them falling and taste them between their lips.

“Stay here,” he whispered Noct’s words from earlier. “It isn’t time, yet.”

He can hear Noctis fighting off a choked breath, but it shakes his entire body with an unvoiced sob. A hand runs along Ignis’ cheek and into his hair. “Thank you,” Noctis says, his voice thick.

Ignis purses his lips into a frown, unable to help himself. “Whatever you need,” he murmurs. “You will have it.”

They laid there, side by side, until Noctis regained control, his tears drying. He never once let go of Ignis. Eventually Ignis stood them up, cleaning their chests with care, brushing his fingers across Noct’s cheek, and pretending he felt stronger than he did. Noctis had to find his clothes for him and he made an insincere joke about how they weren’t folded that neither one of them laughed at. In a moment of domesticity they helped each other back into their shirts and pants. Ignis buttoned up Noctis’ pants while Noctis flattened the wrinkles on Ignis’ shirt, their bodies close enough together that they could stay warm from each other’s heat. Noctis stepped away for a moment, coming back to stand in front of Ignis. Wordlessly, Ignis ran his hand over Noct’s arm down to what he was holding. Ignis’ glasses. They stood there, Ignis’ fingers sitting on Noctis’ wrists, both looking down at the spectacles. It was the last piece of the puzzle to put themselves back together, officially ending what they’d had.

Noctis moved first, slowly lifting his arms. Ignis latched onto his wrist, holding but not hindering, as Noct reached up to slide Ignis’ glasses back into place. His fingers lingered, once again delicately dancing over the skin of the largest scar. Ignis kept his hand in place, moving his free one to wrap around Noctis’ waist. “I can’t help but stare,” Noctis admitted, his voice barely audible. “I don’t ever want to forget.”

Ignis didn’t reply this time, just let himself sit under Noct’s gaze. He tried to memorize the way those fingers traced the scars on his face, feeling, for the first time, that someone could see him underneath the blemishes on his cheeks. He had so many questions he wanted to ask. What did this mean? Had Noctis thought about him the way Ignis always had? Why now? But he didn’t think they mattered anymore. Perhaps if they had ventured down this path ten years ago, he would have. But now, older and at the end of destiny, the questions seemed archaic and futile. Because this didn’t and couldn’t mean anything. Even if Ignis had been in Noctis’ thoughts, it still would have been inappropriate and forbidden. And now because Ignis had decided to indulge himself at the end and leave nothing unsaid.

“We should rest,” Ignis finally said, popping the bubble that they had found themselves in. “You need your sleep.” He ran a finger across Noctis’ cheek, thumbing underneath his eye as if to highlight the dark circles that he was sure were there.

He felt Noctis nod, a hand reaching up to grasp his, and he let the king lead the way to the tent. Ignis thought this would be where they would finally part ways, but Noctis kept their hands joined. He pulled Ignis down to lie next to him, wrapping his arms around Ignis’ waist and settling against his side. Unable to deny him anything, Ignis adjusted and made himself comfortable. He draped his arms around Noctis, bending down to press a firm kiss to the top of his head. Noctis responded by lifting his face to connect their lips once more.

Ignis fell asleep, feeling Noctis’ eyes studying his face.

Gladio and Prompto didn’t say anything about finding them wrapped in each other’s arms when they woke. Before they left the tent to eat breakfast, Noctis placed a final, private kiss on Ignis’ lips, but throughout the meal and on the way to the citadel, they stayed close to each other. There were brief, fleeting touches – lingering hands grasping onto shoulders, nudges as they walked that were just long enough to mean something more than a playful tousle.

Ignis managed a form of acceptance between the night and the battles that followed. He mustered the courage to accept that Noctis’ death was now part of reality and there was nothing anyone could do to change it. They had their moment together and Ignis would cherish it for all the years to come, but that moment had passed. It was easy because Noct was still here. They fought side by side, just as in synch as they had been ten years ago - as though the confessions from the previous night had fixed the unfamiliarity that had lingered between them.

But when Ignis awoke on the floor of the throne room and Noctis was decidedly absent, he scrambled to his feet, following his instincts outside and praying to all the gods that they hadn’t taken him away yet. Not without saying goodbye. Prompto and Gladio were just behind him as he burst out the door, relying on Noctis to call to him if he were still alive.

It was Gladio that saw him first, however. “There,” he called, putting a hand on Ignis’ shoulder and helping him down the stairs toward their king.

Ignis wanted to collide with Noctis and hold him but he knew he wouldn’t let go this time so he let Noct move to him. He rested a hand on Ignis’ shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze. Ignis forced his lips up into something that might be taken for a smile to acknowledge him, not trusting his hands to touch Noctis without spilling his heart.

“It’s time,” was all Noctis supplied before the hand on his arm was gone, leaving him feeling empty and alone. Ignis followed the footsteps to the base of the stairs.

“Prompto, Gladio, Ignis… I leave it to you. Walk tall, my friends.”

He heard Noctis turn around, moving further away. That couldn’t be it. He wouldn’t let that be it. All of his careful acceptance flew from his mind as he felt the distance grow. He is not selfish - his entire life has been dedicated to the man that was about to walk out of his life forever. This man that he loved more than he could ever love himself. But Noctis was getting further away from him and it felt like sand slipping through his fingers. He was going to lose Noctis if he let him go back inside.

“Noct,” he called, his voice catching and the volume at which he said it surprised even himself.

It worked and he heard the footsteps pause.

Boldly he continued, “Don’t do this.” He took the first three steps up, careful and trying to remain composed. But his voice was thick and his nose itched and he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop any tears that were threatening to fall. “I beg of you, don’t leave me.”

Gladio and Prompto shifted behind him and he could see their faces in his head for the first time in years. Prompto awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking down at the ground. Gladio rubbing the back of his neck and looking to the sky for answers that wouldn’t be found. Ignis found himself wishing for it to be ten years ago, not for the first time in the last few days.

“I do not ask for much,” he pressed, taking more steps toward Noct. “But I am asking now. Do not go back in there. Stay here.” At their words of reassurance from the night before, his voice caught and the tears he had tried so hard to keep at bay spilled over but he still continued up. “Let me find another way. There must be another way. Please, Noct.”

The deep sigh that he heard from the king was closer now, and he moved forward. He reached out, feeling Noct’s presence and his hand connected with the other man’s back. Ignis stopped moving up the stairs, fisting his finger in the fabric of Noctis’ jacket, unable to stop the choked breath that leapt from his throat. He could feel the tears trailing down his cheeks, mixing with the rain. “Stay here,” he whispered. “My world has been dark for ten years. Then you returned and I felt as if I could fully breathe again.” He trailed off.

The rational side of his mind knew there was no choice in this. Noctis had no choice, this was the will of the gods. This was what had to happened to bring back the dawn – this was what Noctis was chosen to do. And Ignis couldn’t stop the swell of absolute hatred he had for the gods and for destiny, for Ardyn and the imperials. What had his life been for, if not to protect his king from all danger and to find alternate routes to victory should the path before them prove too perilous? His entire life had been based around protect and serve, and that was being denied to him. He was being asked to stand on the sidelines while his king is sacrificed. Noctis was born for more than to be a sheep to slaughter.

“Let me find another way, Noct,” he pleaded again. “Don’t leave me to the darkness without you.”

There was a breath, and Noctis turned. Ignis let his hand fall away, and he looked down towards the ground, ashamed. He knew it was not his place to stand between gods and kings but for Noctis he would try to safeguard him from anything that meant to do him harm. A tender hand cupped Ignis’ cheek, urging him to look up. Unable to face him yet, Ignis turned his face into Noctis’ hand, kissing his palm. He let out a shattered sigh against the skin and he never wanted to leave. Noctis urged him up again, and this time he obliged. He couldn’t see his king, but he stared at him regardless recalling his image inside his own mind. Ignis reached forward, grasping the front Noctis’ jacket for support. He felt like his legs would give out from under him and he knew that if Noctis ran from him, he would be powerless to follow.

“I can’t, Ignis,” Noct said softly, but he took a step down the stairs so that he could rest his forehead to Ignis’.

He knew that. He knew the answer. And he realized that he had never accepted this as part of his reality at all. He’d convinced himself for a moment that he was ready to let go, but he had already let go – ten years ago, he’d let go. He spent ten years of his life trying to move on and live in a world without Noctis. But every time he would summon his weapon he would breathe a sigh of relief that somewhere Noct was still alive. And then the king had come riding back into his life and everything Ignis thought he had relinquished rushed back. Now the gods wanted to take him away again, for good this time. Ignis wanted to scream.

“Let me go with you,” he begged, taking Noctis’ face in his hands and he knew that this would be the last time.

Noctis let out a breath and Ignis thought he was pulling away. But he felt lips against his own and a short sob escaped into Noctis’ mouth. He knew this was it, but he latched onto it like a lifeline. He opened his mouth for Noct’s tongue, tangling his finger in dark, wet hair. Noctis’ hands held his own face, pushing them so close together Ignis felt his glasses move up, sitting lopsided on his nose between them. Ignis could feel the fear building in his stomach that this meant it was the end and he held tighter still. If he didn’t let go, Noctis would have to take him and he could die by his king’s side, by the side of the man that he loved, just as he’d always wanted.

The kiss was too short, but it left them both breathless. Noctis held on to him, seemingly just as reluctant to go as Ignis was to let him. They breathed each other’s air, grasping desperately at the other’s face. Noctis leaned in and placed one firm, resolute, definitive kiss to Ignis’ lips and breathed, “I love you.”

And just like that he was gone. He disconnected from Ignis’ embrace and Ignis felt his entire world collapse. He reached out and felt nothing but air, hearing the echoes of Noctis’ all too quick steps back inside. His legs no longer supported him and he crashed to his knees, his fingers curling over the steps beneath him as he cried into the stone.

Gladio and Prompto were both at his side moments after he heard the thundering close of the door into the citadel. He could hear them telling him to stand and that it was time to fight. Daemons seemed meaningless now, but with the tears still in his eyes and a fire gut, he turned with his friends to face the new threat. He summoned his weapons into his hands and tried not to think about how he wouldn’t be able to put them back.

He fought with a renewed fury. All of his anger and frustrations – gods, destiny, the Empire, Ardyn, his loss, his blindness, Noctis – he took it all and threw it into his defense of the citadel. Nothing was going to get inside.

The hordes of daemons began dwindling and retreating back into the darkness. None of them celebrated. They finished off the last remaining monsters then stood. All three of them, shoulder to shoulder, among the battlefield. They were covered from head to toe in blood, out of breath and exhausted, but they didn’t move.

Ignis lifted his dagger and willed it away, but it didn’t leave his grasp.

“There,” Prompto said quietly, putting a hand on Ignis’ shoulder so he could see where he meant.

In the midst of the blackness of his vision, Ignis could see at the bottom there was a sliver of light. Still, they did not rejoice, remaining silent.

The sun was rising.

It was dawn at last.