[ Noctis moves, removes the tray from his lap and setting it on the floor when Ignis curls close. It's not often that he does this -- Ignis has never been predisposed for tactility, and that he curls close like this means that somewhere deep down this conversation distresses him. He's pulling him closer, arm around him tightening as he lays a soft kiss to his forehead. ]

To whom much is given, much more is asked. [ Noblesse oblige, he's learned this ever since he had been a child. Privilege has been afforded Noctis but at a terrible price. Brushing his knuckles across Ignis' cheek, he runs his fingers through Ignis' hair, quietly pained. ] Iggy, you of all people understand that better than anyone.

[ Their happiness isn't a factor for this, and it's like he says -- the world is unfair. Noctis is uncertain, aching for him; more than anything he wants Ignis, wants to give him what he's due. And yet, he's aware that there are the few territories that still have leverage over the king. For once, he's uncertain -- he thought this would be easy, that when it all settles down they could broach the subject of marriage. How wrong he is, how he had fooled himself to thinking that he can afford a chance at his own happiness. ]

But you, I love you so much more than anyone. [ He tips Ignis' face up to his, makes sure he's listening. ] In every way that matters, I belong to you.

[ But the king, the king belongs to his people. ]