nascere | LET'S PLAY {open post}

☠ Noctis finds Ignis' tattoo that he got when he was young and stupid with Gladio.
☠ Time travel - Noct comes out of the crystal to some sort of age shenanigans where one of them has time traveled
☠ Ignis giving Noct orders + praisekink + "princess" + bratty Noctis + crossdressing
☠ Sparring except sparring turns into whoops we're making out and having sex on the sparring mats.
☠ magic sharing

Edited 2017-12-18 07:12 (UTC)

[ It's no secret that Ignis handled being ill very poorly. Once, when he'd been ill, it'd taken Regis himself pulling him aside and gently explaining that his job was to protect, to be there for Noctis and he couldn't do that job as well as he normally did if he were ill. Ignis was never certain if it was the shame of having Regis talk to him like that, gentle and fatherly and concerned, or the realization that he was right, but either way, he'd accepted it.

He'd never been particularly sickly, either; health was something he was blessed with, and the one time something serious happened, Noctis defied all the odds, the Gods themselves and healed him. It makes being ill now all the more insulting. On some level, it's sweet that Noct has gone through all this trouble to ensure that he's unable to work while he's ill. On another, it's infuriating and all he wants to do is something useful, something other than lying in bed, feverish and disgusting, staring at books until the words swim.

Day one is fine - not fun, but passable. Day two, the fever spikes and he alternates between chills and being overwhelmingly hot, unable to find a balance. Day three, he's bedridden save for the bathroom and the walk he makes himself take around the King's room, mostly to prove that he can. Day three, Noctis comes back having gotten over the sickness nearly a week ago and Ignis gives him a bleary look through the mess of his sweat-damp fringe and sits up to greet him. He eats the soup he's given and blessedly doesn't puke, even managing a cool bath, despite sagging off of Noctis when he's unable to wobble there himself.

Thankfully, it's an early night for both of them. He asks Noctis if he's eaten (forgetting they'd eaten together a mere hour ago) and takes the medication he's given, sleepily protesting them cuddling but not strong enough to do anything about it. In the end, sleep wins out quickly and Ignis rests, curled on his side, a hand resting on top of Noct's chest.

When he wakes, he has no idea what hour it is, but instead of the grating of the floor holding the Crystal, it's softer. He aches, just like he's escaped a battle but this time: he can see. ]

Noct--

[ It's a sleep-fuzzy slur, the vowel rounded awkwardly in his mouth with exhaustion and he gropes around, trying to figure out where Noct is, where any of them are. A moment later, he realizes: Noct's lying still next to him, pale in the light of the moon bleeding through the window. There, the proof is right there. Noctis dead, the moonlight illuminating the bloodied sheets underneath him, pale and still, hair mussed.

There's no stopping the distressed, horrible noise that's dragged out of him, more animal than human at that point. ]

Noctis, Noct-- no, I stopped-- it was me, I-

[ They were supposed to take me, he can't articulate. Fumbling, he reaches for the ring but it's not on his fingers and when he goes for Noct's it's not there, either. ]

[ It's also no secret that Ignis makes a terrible patient. He insists on being stubborn until his own body betrays him, too tired to put up the front Ignis is intent on upholding, and Noctis is too worried for him to tell him that he told him so. For a man who can fuss over Noctis to no end when he's ill (even if it's something he secretly likes, to have his undivided attention for so long), his chamberlain definitely eschews treatment in kind. It takes one hell of a lot of determination and the generous application of threats for Ignis to grudgingly, partially yield, but Noctis is nothing if not resourceful and fully capable of making Ignis' traitor of a body work for him, as well.

He takes the next couple of days off, secretly thankful that they've reached a relative lull. Things are progressing very smoothly, and most items still do not require a check-in just yet, which leaves Noctis free to care for Ignis. And care for him he does, with a single-minded purpose and a strength of will that keeps Ignis in his room -- if not his bed -- and he attends to his every need, aware of the care that his lover had shown him unconditionally not one week ago when he had been suffering from the same thing. And to be fair, Noctis had been far worse, his stubbornness mitigated by the near-constant need for sleep.

Ignis, however, seems to shun sleep; his illness not allowing for blessed rest. Noctis had gone back to the doctor and made a request for a different cocktail of treatment, something that will let Ignis sleep his discomfort away -- it hurts to see him so run down, and even if it's essentially not a life-threatening sickness, Noctis cannot bear to witness him so weak. But he holds steadfast, ever-ready to be his support, his strength until he regains some himself. So he makes it a point to bathe with him (Ignis despises being treated as an invalid, so Noctis tries another way, doing things together instead of doing it for him), to ensure that his medication is ingested, sheets regularly changed, the windows opened for air circulation.

He feeds him soup, too, whatever he can consume, and he stays close, helping him from bathroom to bed, sharing the bath with him and making sure his sleep clothes are ready once they're out. It's an early night, and both are exhausted from the rigors of the day. To be fair, Noctis does sleep like the dead. He's a quiet sleeper, still and silent -- and if one does not look too closely he could pass for a corpse.

Which, if course, is to his great detriment presently. Noctis, who could sleep through a thundering herd of angry Marlboros, who is loathe to wake even at the most insistent and discourteous of promptings, is attuned to the smallest hints of Ignis' discomforts. Perhaps it's because they have been so intimate for so long that Noctis knows the very sound of his breathing, the way he holds him at night -- secrets spilled and soft words lost in the comfort of darkness. He comes awake quicker than he usually does, pulled to the surface by the sheer wrongness of the sound issuing from Ignis' throat, from the way he calls his name, raw and distressed, a terrible thing that snags at his heart.

Noctis didn't think it possible to hear Ignis sound like this, and the shock of it, the obscene incongruity of his horror banishes sleep from his consciousness immediately, a powerful surge of concern and worry overwhelming everything else. He's up in an instant, protective as he reaches back for him. Noctis doesn't wear the ring anymore because he doesn't have to, but he keeps it with him all the same, on a chain around his neck. ]

Iggy. Iggy! [ He grasps him by a shoulder, twining his other hand with his to show him that he is, in fact, very not dead. Ignis must be having some sort of a nightmare, the way the words are ripped from his throat, and he shakes him gently, pressing close. What does he mean, it was him? What did he stop? ] You're having a nightmare, I'm here, see? I'm here. Wake up.

[ Noctis isn't moving and when Ignis swings his head around, he can't see the Crystal. He can see, though, and that feels wrong. He shouldn't be able to see - he remembers the pain of it, the power coursing through him sharp and biting, burning him from the inside out. Remembers putting his hands to his eyes, screaming when he realized what a fucking mistake that was, burning so fiercely that he knew he'd made a mistake.

It's disorienting; Ignis doesn't understand what's happening but after a few moments of Noct sitting up, talking to him, he pieces together the words and realizes what's happening - that Noct's alive, he's fine, the sheets aren't bloodied they're just a deep burgundy color instead of saturated with Noctis' blood.

I'm here, wake up.

It sounds like him; Ignis stares at him, not comprehending at first and then gives up trying to understand it, folding himself in against Noct's chest with a horrible noise caught in his throat, groping aimlessly for him. He feels real. He feels solid, alive, even smells the same. When he focuses, he can smell the scent of the shampoo they used in the bath before they crawled into bed. Noct, he breathes uncertainly against his throat, hands sliding over his waist, his chest and finally settling into a hug, tucking his head under his chin.

Later, he'll be mortified at himself for this. He's sweat-damp and feels horrifically weak and never handles that sort of thing well, but right now, he's too busy trying to confirm that Noct's okay. ]

You're here.

[ It's more of a question than he likes and he lifts a hand to slide it over Noctis' chest, but it's whole. He's whole, he's alive. When he rests his hand there, it's against warm, smooth skin, not a gaping wound where Ardyn had shoved a sword into his chest. ]

Here, and totally awake.

[ Noctis' heart is pounding despite himself as he sits up and wraps his arms tightly around Ignis, taking him wholly into his embrace and murmuring soft words, pressing his lips to his clammy forehead and squeezing. There, see? Corpses can't do any squeezing, can't want to hug the hell out of you and make sure every shadow, every demon is vanquished. ]

Broke the world record in waking me up, too. [ Noctis tries to lighten the mood with a quip, tries to distract him, soothe over what has so obviously left him completely shaken. It's a terrifying thing, nightmares, and this one seems to be a doozy. He presses into his hand, not entirely sure what Ignis is doing but happy to prove to him that yes, he still has a beating heart, and he's tucking his lover into his arms, protective and fierce. ] Iggy. I'm always going to be here, okay? With you. Always with you. I'm not going anywhere. [ Another kiss to his forehead, his hand rubbing soothing circles over his back. He has to be strong for Ignis now, be the rock -- Ignis has woken him up from so many nightmares, so many terrible things; it's his turn to do the same.

Soft and steady, he nsoes against him. ]

Do you want to talk about it?

[ Now that the panic is fading, he's feeling endlessly ridiculous about it now that he's realizing that it wasn't real. Noctis is breathing next to him; he can hear the steady in-out and the thud of his heart under where his head rests on Noct's chest. He's alive and Ignis feels something awfully similar to shame creep up in him.

He knows that if it were reversed - if Noct were having a nightmare, he'd be accommodating and not judge and knows that most likely, Noct doesn't mind in the slightest but that doesn't make it easy to cope with all the same. The joke registers faintly; Ignis makes a soft noise of acknowledgment and starts to peel himself back but can't move far; Noct's holding him too tightly and he's not inclined to fight it, especially when he's too sick and weak to.

The promises are kind - Ignis appreciates it, but knows that he can't make those promises, not really. There's no way to know for sure that they'll make it from one day to the next; that's why Ignis, Gladio and Prompto work so hard to protect him. The world needs him -- Ignis needs him. ]

Not-- not particularly.

[ He should address what Noctis said, the promises, the reassurance but doesn't trust himself to so instead, he urges Noct back against the headboard and gingerly settles against him despite how he's overwarm and sweating, still ill. ]

It did not come to pass; lingering on it won't help matters.

What didn't come to pass?

[ Noctis asks before he can help himself, ignoring the sinking in the pit of his stomach at the realisation that it's something related to him. Ignis wouldn't have been like this otherwise-- the man is normally unflappable and largely unfazed when trouble comes knocking, but Noctis has learned that he's quite the exception. He's not sure what to feel about that.

Gathering him into his arms as he rests back against the pillows, he's stroking his hair, cupping his face lightly to reassure him of his presence. Ignis is here right now, safe with him and loved, and he kisses his temple again. His fingers twitch, and something clicks. Ignis was seeking something on his hand, and he looks down on it briefly. The ring?

The ring, probably. Frowning briefly, he's shifting to reach for the cold towel, and he gently nudges at his lover. ] Take your shirt off, Iggy. You're too warm.

I--

[ He can't even articulate it right now, breath hitching in his throat as he tries to think about it and figure out how to give it words. You were dead, Ardyn killed you and I had to watch; it'd get jumbled in his mouth and not come out right, when normally he has no issues talking to Noct.

It's the illness, he supposes, or maybe the panic that lingers at the edge of his awareness, threatening to spike up and swallow him down again if he dips too far into that train of thought. Slowly, he focuses on doing what he can which is at this point, adjusting himself so that he's not quite huddling in Noctis' arms. Instead, he stretches his legs back out and pushes their feet together, sliding an arm around his waist. His cheek is pillowed on one of Noct's shoulders, leaning into each soft touch, shuddering.

Now that it's faded back and he's more aware, he's hyper aware of how pathetic he feels, despite knowing that it's reasonable, given everything that's happened.

Orders, orders are easy. Ignis moves on instinct, obeying before he even thinks about it. His fingers hook under the shirt and he shrugs it off, hair mussed, sticking up in a rather impressive imitation of Prompto's once it's removed. Rather than try and fold it like normal, he lets it slip out of his fingers, slithering over the edge of the bed. It's soaked in a cold sweat and he's sure it smells; he ought to get in the shower, or a bath, but he has no idea what time it is. ]

I'm rather tired of being ill.

On the bright side, you have me to fuss over you. Give yourself a few days, huh?

[ He understands the frustration, is aware that there is one hell of a something that Ignis isn't telling him. But perhaps he will when he's ready -- pushing him for it when he feels this shaky and ill is a cruel thing to do, and Noctis can't bring himself to press him for it no matter how curious he is.

Oh, that momentary Prompto likeness is cute, and Noctis helps him shed his shirt. Ignis smells a little musky, different from how he usually does, but Noctis doesn't care when he's wiping the cold towel over his back, gently urging him up so he can get at his chest and stomach as well. It won't help much to lower his temperature, but at least it's something.

He smiles, wanting to assuage and soothe, because Ignis is not pathetic, he can never be pathetic to him -- he has held the weight of everything on his shoulders, had been so, so brave. He remembers how he'd gotten all those scars, how Ignis was crumpled in a pile and Noctis has panicked, terrified that he would lose him too.

But he didn't, and Noctis murmurs in his ear, smiling. ] You're the bravest, most wonderful man I've ever had the privilege of loving. Do you know that? I think you do. I mean, the other candidates pretty much suck.

You are very fussy.

[ It's ridiculously affectionate despite the fact it could come across as a complaint. His eyes slide closed as Noctis takes the cool towel and starts wiping him down; he's gotten over the idea of complaining about his king taking care of him. Now, he leans into it, drowsy with the lack of adrenaline in him and the exhaustion seeping back.

Noctis drags the towel over his front and his back and Ignis does his best to cooperate, moving along with him mindlessly and when it's done, he presses a kiss to his jaw rather than his lips. He may have caught this from Noctis but he isn't about to give it back by kissing him. ]

Prompto and Gladio are just as brave, but your faith and kind words are still appreciated.

[ Ignis lifts a hand, stroking it over Noct's jaw, tucking hair behind his ear and then slowly, achingly, goes back to resting against the broad stretch of his chest. It still hurts, that kind of ache where anything touching his skin is bad but he'd rather cuddle Noctis than just lay miserably on the bed. It takes time and he has a few false starts but eventually, tracing idle patterns over Noctis' chest, he begins: ]

I dream of losing you. Of not being enough. Of the thousand ways everything could have gone wrong - or, with the prophecy, right for a given meaning of the word.

I am.

[ If the shoe fits, wear it. Also because Ignis helped make him this way by indulging him, so -- really, he's a product of Ignis' love and pampering. But then again, Noctis is beginning to find that he really likes taking care of him, too, and while a part of him wants a proper kiss, he knows the sweetness of Ignis' considerations and doesn't complain. Of course he doesn't want him to get sick again, although it doesn't stop Noctis from sneaking a little closed-mouth one from his lips.

Mm.

He sobers up when he hears Ignis speak, when he clings to him like this and realizes just why Ignis sounded so terrified, how shaken he had been -- Noctis had never seen him like that before, and he doesn't hesitate, his palm resting on his back as he gathers him close. It bothers him more than he can say, this shadow that lingers on the horizon, when Ignis gives voice to his fears and how Noctis had narrowly missed giving his life because of the three of them. They saved him, Ignis most of all, and Noctis will never forget the day he found him in front of the crystal, burned through and dying, and how his heart broke then.

Ignis, who was willing to lay down his life for him. ] You're enough.

[ When the day comes when Noctis has to lay down his life for them again, he wants Ignis to remember this. ] You're more than enough, I want you to understand that.

[ He takes his hand, kisses where he knows the ring had gone. He had found favor with the kings for just a little while, and Noctis had been moved and heartbroken all at once. He can't make promises now, can he? Ignis will know he's lying, and he shakes his head. ] If the day comes -- if ever -- I want you to live. For me. You've done so very much.

[ I like it, gets murmured into the curve of Noctis' throat, a quiet admission. He loves - genuinely loves taking care of Noctis and will never get tired of it. Despite the fact that it was Noctis' father who asked it of him, he'd never regret the years spent together, or the work put in. Especially not when Noctis has grown into a man that his father would certainly be proud of - that Ignis himself is terribly proud of.

Of course, the soft feeling starts to fade when Noctis registers what exactly Ignis had dreamt about; it's not that he's ashamed to love him so much that he has nightmares about losing him, it's that it's done and over with and yet the potential for failure still haunts him.

Gingerly, he shifts and gropes for the blankets, chilled suddenly. He tugs it up to their chest and fits himself in against Noctis' side, smoothing his hand up and down the line of his chest in idle affection. The ring, the Crystal, all of it nearly stole Noctis from them and despite the fact that it would have saved the world, he hates the idea of Noctis having to endure so much and suffer more afterward. No one deserved it, but especially not him. ]

Noct-- [ He doesn't flinch from the words, but oh, he wants to. It's easier when he's not looking at Noct right now, staring at the dimly lit walls around them instead, frowning. ] It's my job to protect you. That doesn't stop, simply because we are together.

[ Noctis helps. Tucks him in and makes sure the blanket is secure (even though he knows the other man will probably toss it off). He knows this is difficult for Ignis; Six, it's difficult thinking about it, too. He doesn't want to die, he wants to live his life out with Ignis and his friends and serve their people. He wants to see where he and Ignis go, he wants to keep loving him and to make up for all the lost time.

Ignis is not looking at him, and he frowns, gently grasping his chin to look at him. Theirs is a complicated relationship where duty and love are inextricably twined -- an innate power imbalance than can implode on itself if not properly managed. But they're doing quite well so far, aren't they? It's turning out that they have the same problems and issues and joys and fears that other couples do, and Noctis is endlessly grateful for that. ]

And it's my job to make sure I protect you, too. As your king. And -- you know. [ Lover still sounds so weird to say. ] More than that. What we are now. I won't have you dying for me. [ That first time, that time, seeing Ignis so close to death terrified him more than even the old kings of Lucis did. His love, dying because of him. He cannot bear it. ]

Edited 2017-12-21 02:53 (UTC)

[ It'll take probably ten minutes for him to decide he's too warm for the blankets, but Ignis appreciates that Noctis plays along with this. Less appreciated is the way his chin is tugged up to look at Noctis and he has to fight the urge to look away, unable, unwilling to look at him but forcing himself to do it anyway. It's the least he owes Noctis.

Of course when he delves into more detail, Ignis wants to look away all over again. How does he begin to explain that it's not the same thing? The loss of a life is a tragedy in almost every case, but Ignis is no fool. If lives were to be weighed, one against another over and over, he knows that Noctis' own would weigh the most, be the most valuable. It's not something to pity himself for, it's simply fact. The world needs Noctis.

Noctis and the world do not need Ignis. There's a quiet certainty in that, and a relief in knowing his own value. Still, Noctis' sweetness isn't something he ought to ignore, especially while sick. ]

We'll have to agree to disagree. [ He says it as gently as he can, turning his head back down until he's looking at the blankets, listening to the steady thump-THUMP of Noctis' heart under his ear. ] Either way; I've no intention of dying or letting you die now, or any time in the future.

I'm not agreeing to disagree with that.

[ Noctis says quietly. For all intents and purposes, Noctis has always respected Ignis' opinions even if they differ; they might be intimately close, more attuned to each other than anyone else, but even they have disagreements, too. And this, it seems, is one of them. The truth is that Noctis needs him. He needs him more than he's ever needed anyone else. Ignis is true north, a fundamental, irreplaceable part of his life, and the idea of living without Ignis is something Noctis never wants to contemplate.

He's gathering him close, letting him hear the beat of his heart, stroking his hair absently. ] No one's dying. [ He murmurs, at least mollified a little. ] I need you by my side, you know. To be without you -- that's not where I want to be.

Noctis-

[ Oh, it's the full name. He's not terribly threatening like this, weak like a puppy and horribly exhausted, but he tries to be disapproving for a second before giving up. There's no way to put words to the relationship between them, not properly. They're two entirely different people, where Noctis was able to depend on the people around him and Ignis was made to protect him. Everything he did was for Noctis' benefit, for his life further along the line. That's what he was entrusted with and that's what he would follow through with.

That's what made this sickness so infuriating. Ignis curves his hand over the dip of Noctis' waist and breathes out, slow and warm when the hand starts stroking his hair. He does truly like this and he doesn't want to argue but how does he even broach the subject? ]

You're a King, darling. As much as I wish that the world would bend to your whims and wants, it will not. The three of us are your shields.

[ Gladiolus may be Noctis' Shield proper, but Ignis knew all three of them would put their life on the line for him every time. ]

[ No, that's not terribly threatening, even though Noctis senses the intent perfectly well. Ignis' energy is waning, worn thin from what little exertion Noctis allows him these days, and he makes a silent note to reduce it further, at least until Ignis shores up his strength. ]

You're all more than that. [ He says more gently than he usually would -- more than shields, they're his friends, brothers in arms, especially Ignis, who is so, so much more. He's a partner, a lover, he's such an immense part of Noctis' life that he won't know what to do with himself if Ignis slips away from him. ] You, especially.

[ He musters a small smile, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to draw him closer against his chest. Might as well take advantage of this when Ignis is still seeking warmth instead of shedding it. ] And you should really be sleeping instead of arguing with me.

But we're not kings.

[ He's realistic, not fatalistic. He hates it, that this conversation is even necessary but in his mind it is. Losing Noctis would be unbearable for all of them but worse for Insomnia, for Lucis. They can't afford that right now, not with everything as politically unstable as it is, not with the Empire as it is. They need to be careful and ensure each step is measured, well thought out.

Still, he's not going to win this argument right now, he's sure, and it isn't the best time to try and die on this particular hill so he exhales unhappily and allows himself to lie there, Noctis' chest rising and falling soothingly. ]

I'm not certain if I can get back to sleep as quickly as I'd like, but you should try. I shouldn't keep you up.

[ He should probably get up and put another shirt on but he can't bring himself to move more than the few inches he's already moved to drape over Noctis. ]

[ Really, you shouldn't say things like that to Noctis. He's sleepy, yes, and would definitely love to settle in and sleep, nestled together with Ignis, but he remembers the wild look in his eyes, which pushes the necessity for it further back than it usually would. ]

You're not keeping me up. [ Technically true. It's Noctis that's consciously keeping himself up despite encroaching drowsiness. It's his worry that left to his own devices, Ignis would let his imagination run wild, that he would stew, alone, in the nightmares that had so ruthlessly wrenched him to consciousness. ] Is it still bothering you, that nightmare?

Liar.

[ A sweet one, though, and Ignis doesn't want to fight it. He's calmed down significantly, but knows that sleep is going to be out of reach for a while. It's stupid to keep Noctis up to suffer with him, especially when he needs sleep but the low rumble of his voice is comforting.

A few more moments to make sure that his subconscious gets the idea that Noctis is really alive and hopefully doesn't decide to have awful nightmares any longer, and then he'll try to rest again. Would that he had the power to fall asleep anywhere like their king possessed. ]

Do you ever feel as though something is too good to be true?

[ Like one day he'll wake up and it'll all have been a dream; Noctis will be in the ground and the rest of them will be dealing with the ruins of Insomnia. ]

Every morning, when I wake up next to you.

[ Yes. Yes, of course. It's not Noctis being glib; it's Noctis at his most honest. They've cheated death, thwarted the prophecy's blood price, but to what end? Noctis thinks about it sometimes, and he knows that his life had been bought, essentially, by his dearest friends' hard work and sacrifice.

He nuzzles against him quietly, soberly, nuzzling against his cheek before resting his chin against the top of Ignis' head, feeling the rise and fall of his body. It's a simple thing, feeling him draw breath. But it's more important than anything else in the world, to know that Ardyn hadn't claimed Ignis' life too, after all. He has killed so many, and caused the deaths of so much more, Ignis is not one of them. ]

And you?

[ Oh. Oh. He doesn't know what to say to that because sometimes, Noctis' raw honesty is so much that it's practically overwhelming. He's silent for a long moment, just soaking in the sweetness of it, resisting the urge to think that it's ridiculous that Noctis could have his choice of anyone and he's chosen him. It's a ridiculous thought and he's not prone to self-deprecation; it's just the illness and he knows it. ]

Sometimes I think about what could have been.

[ What could have happened, if they had failed. There's a million different ways things could have gone even worse; Noctis could have truly died out there with Lunafreya. Noctis could have died a dozen times over and it was pure fucking luck that saved him at points, not just the combined efforts of his friends. It's terrifying to think about and dwelling on it won't help anyone.

Ignis presses a lingering kiss to his pulse, stroking his sock-clad toes against Noctis' ankle gently. ]

Forgive me. Fever and lack of sleep mean I'm particularly prone to melancholy, I suppose.

It's all right.

[ He nudges back against him warmly, appreciating the kiss pressed to his pulse, the sweetness of Ignis' tender gesture. There are shadows in Ignis that he can't yet reach, but Noctis knows the value of patience, knows that it will take time to fully process what happened, and how to move forward together.

He's seeking out his hand, twining their fingers together as he raises it to his lips, warm and almost worshipful. Ignis might be ill, but it will pass, like dark clouds that only blot out the sun for a few moments. He's not certain if it'll be the same for the possibilities that he notices Ignis finds himself contemplating -- Noctis would be lying if he said he hadn't dwelt on that, either. ]

Tell me more about it. [ He wants to listen, he wants Ignis to let him in. Maybe then Ignis will be able to sleep better, knowing the burden is shared. ]

[ He feels ridiculous the more he talks about all of this; it's not as if Noctis would ever judge him for it, but at the same time, Ignis knows that he has his own things that he's going through. Of course, a relationship is a partnership, too. Noctis would want to know. Ignis is more than aware he's walking himself around in mental circles and talking about it will be more use than anything else.

The kiss to his fingers gets a soft noise in response, Ignis reaching out to graze fingertips over the curve of his jaw, the pout of his lower lip. He's so lovely sometimes that it strikes Ignis all over again and he feels silly for being almost flustered by it; he's far too old for that. ]

Ardyn was successful. You were - we lost you to the Astrals, the crystal, the ring. You fulfilled your destiny and he was defeated, but not before they took you, too. It wasn't...the situation itself was awful, but the worst was feeling so helpless. You had a duty to fulfill and I understood that, even in a dream, but that did not make it any easier to accept.

No, I guess it wouldn't.

[ Noctis says quietly, after a long silence. How much worse it must be for the people who love him -- for Ignis, Gladio, Prompto, to be haunted by the possibility of failure. Dying, he supposes, is easier than living through loss, because at least it ends. Not that Noctis wants to die, mind; even if he's prepared for the eventuality.

Sometimes, he thinks in his more private moments, if it might be better if he did, after all. A life to pay for all the others who have given theirs up for his sake along the way. But he owes his days to his people and their loved ones, he owes it to them to restore their home.

He leans into Ignis' fingers, eyes lidding at the delicate touch. This is not the rambling of a delirious man -- it's Ignis naming the ghosts that haunt him before they become a noose around his neck.

Leaning in close to lay a soft kiss to his chin, his cheek, he murmurs. ] Now is probably a good time to remind you that you're the strongest, bravest man I know. Not just anyone would charge in and demand the favor of the old kings. You --

[ His fingers come to rub over where the ring had been on Ignis', and he takes that to his lips, pressing a kiss over it, too. ] You're never helpless. You'll always find a way -- that's the kind of person you've always been.

LET'S PLAY {open post}

Catchall

SICK + nightmares

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l m f a o tbh this could turn into the argument.

heck yes omg

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