nascere | LET'S PLAY {open post}

[ The bed barely shifts with his weight, too expensive to change too much with the addition of another body. After moving out of the royal quarters, Ignis had ordered himself a ridiculously expensive, excessive mattress. If he was going to be sleeping alone at nights, then he was going to spend it somewhere good, somewhere comfortable. ]

Probably not.

[ He isn't prone to fits of melancholy, but right now, that's the only word for it. Noctis climbs into bed with him, clad in his clothes just as Ignis wears Noctis and for a moment, this could be familiar. Ignis rolls over onto his side and looks at the other man, looks at his king across the massive space between them: metaphorical and physical, and hurts. ]

Not that it particularly matters but the sheets are clean. I wouldn't -- I would have changed them before allowing you into them.

[ Probably not, he says, and Noctis doesn't argue, doesn't force his point. He shifts and turns on his side when Ignis does, meeting his eyes head on. He can see it, the pain in his eyes, and how Ignis is hurting. He doesn't miss how his lover still wears his shirt at night, and he wonders if Ignis gleans comfort from it, if he pretends sometimes that they're still together in the ways that matter. ]

I figured, a couple seconds ago. [ He admits. And he's reaching out to touch his cheek, fingers brushing over his cheekbones. It hurts -- there's nothing about this that doesn't bring pain, and he leans in to press a soft kiss to his forehad, brows knitted. ] Didn't think you were cruel enough to let me in with... that.

[ He's quiet for a moment, and sighs. ] I miss you.

Let you in. There's a choice of words.

[ With someone else, those words may have come out sharper, angrier. For Ignis, it's soft and resigned. Let him in, as if Ignis had any choice in the matter, what with Noctis letting himself into the room. Did he camp out and wait for Aranea to leave? That's an...uncomfortable thought that he doesn't want to consider, but he's distracted before he can fully consider the implications. Noctis strokes over his cheekbone and Ignis breathes out, soft and slow, catching Noctis' hand in his so he can tug it in for a kiss. There's no attempt on his part to bridge the gap between them aside from this. ]

I've always been right here, Noctis.

[ It is. maybe, too carefully said. Not I'll always be right here or I'll never leave you. He's left too many times to make that promise but he will and has always come back. ]

No, you haven't.

[ The times Ignis had left had been nothing short of torture, and perhaps he had left with them both knowing that there's little Noctis can do about it -- the king is not the only one that's hurting, and Ignis, too; Ignis must be in hell, fighting to keep it together every moment of every day.

Ignis doesn't breach the distance but Noctis does, closing the space between them, pressing his body up against his as he drapes an arm around his waist the way he always had a lifetime ago, when they had hoped, had dreamed for a day when they could be together out in the open. ] But that's okay. You've been hurting, too.

I have. Everything I've done has been for your benefit, for your country's benefit.

[ It's not fair to justify these trips as if they're something he's forced to go on. He could, if he wanted, avoid some of them. Noctis could order him not to go. Ignis has an assistant for that very reason, after all; he could send her. It's unfair to pretend that each trip hasn't been Ignis running away, trying to reset himself to normal, to adjust to a world where they've fixed everything around them except for themselves.

When Noctis slides across the bed, he doesn't resist. It's habit, or instinct, or whatever you like to call it: one leg slides between both of Noctis' and he fits his body in close like he has a thousand times. Like calls to like. He ought to tell Noctis about that innocuous scrap of paper that means so much, though. ]

Aranea offered me a job.

It's your country too, Ignis. [ Ours. Ignis had fought harder than anyone else, sacrificed more than anyone else -- Noctis will never forget the day he'd seen him wield the ring of the Lucii, how he had almost burned up for Noctis' sake. But he doesn't push more than that, tangling his limbs with his and pulling him close. He's starved of him, he's missed him so sorely, and it doesn't help that Ignis fits so perfectly in his arms, warm and solid and willing.

He holds him tight, because like calls to like and Ignis has always been the other half of his soul, the missing piece in his heart. But then he speaks, and Noctis tenses.

Aranea, offering him a job. Is he going to leave him? ] Yeah?

I'm aware.

[ Noctis seems...smaller, like this. Bundled up under the massive covers, quiet and sad. Ignis hates this - hates the situation, the knowledge that nothing will really change here, hates so much about what's going on that it's like a physical pain inside his chest, like he's being burned from the inside out as with the ring all over again.

He survived that. He'll survive this too. Noctis holds him close and Ignis, weak and exhausted and never able to tell him no, strokes a hand up and down the line of his back, rucking up his shirt to get to bare skin. ]

It would mean more travel. Interfacing directly with her and her men. I would...shift of more of my duties to others and most likely need to maintain conference calls while I work.

[ He's silent for a long moment, finding little comfort in his embrace. But Ignis is warm and here and he presses his lips against the line of his neck. They're both wounded, caught in an endless misery. Another price to pay for stability, one that hurts each time.

He breathes him in, sinking in the scent of him, the thrum of his pulse and tries not to think of how his absence will leave him empty. ]

How long?

[ It would be easier if this was just fucking. If they'd showered, and Ignis had let Noctis bend him over the bed and fuck him until they were both tired and aching and then they went to bed. The intimacy is the hardest part. Knowing someone better than you know yourself, knowing how much they're hurting because you feel it too. It's not fair, but nothing is.

He should pull away. He should put the distance between them again. Instead, he presses their foreheads together and closes his eyes, tracing his spine. ]

Long enough that I learn how to say no to this for good, Noctis. It's too difficult when you're here.

And if I ask you to stay?

[ He asks after a long silence, cupping his face to press a kiss to his lips. His Ignis -- oh, he's not ready to say goodbye to this. He's not ready to say no. He wants him so badly it hurts, and he twines closer to him, frowning. To lose him would be to lose so much of himself, and he presses another, another.

That he would consider this hurts on a whole new level, that he would come to refuse this, to leave him makes his heart break. ]

If I asked you not to leave me?

Noct, please.

[ How many times has he done this? Curled up with Noctis, enjoying the warmth and comfort that another body brought in a too-big bed? There's no one else like Noctis, no one else he loves so much, no one else he trusts as much. Maybe the gossip rags were right about this - maybe he was too invested, borderline obsessed, to a point where he could actively do more damage to Noctis' status as king than anyone else could.

The realization feels like ice pooling inside him, hard and sharp. He can't protect Noctis if he's one of the points of danger to him. If word of an affair got out it could jeopardize the treaty, the relationships they've worked so hard to build. Octavia's kept quiet, but what if she doesn't forever? Stupid, stupid of him to only consider bits and pieces and not the whole. Noctis has always been his blind spot. ]

You've sacrificed everything for this country and her people. I won't let you lose it because of an ill-timed affair.

An ill-timed affair, is that all you think you are? [ Noctis is incredulous when he leans back to look at him. How can he even begin to think that -- who cares what the gossip rags even say?

Noctis loves him too much to be objective, too much to let go and back away; Ignis had been such a fundamental, crucial part of him for so long it's impossible to imagine him leaving. So what if Ignis is his weakness, so what if he cannot think straight around the man? ]

I won't lose anything, Iggy. And I especially won't lose you.

You're a king married to a woman from another country, to forge an alliance that greatly benefits both of us. By definition, as the man you are not married to, I'm an affair and given that it hasn't been that long since the treaty was signed, yes, I think it is rather ill timed. The term is appropriate.

[ It's partially his fault for never denying Noctis anything. The extra serving of dessert and acceptance of vegetables was one thing, but it's gone too far. This -- that this conversation isn't happening in his study, is too far. He's doing it even now and it takes a moment to realize that he's angry at himself for it. Angry when he should be the one who knows better, that he's enabling this even now. Angry that instead of sliding back, he simply lies there. ]

And what about what I want?

[ How difficult it is to pull himself out of all the things that could happen -- how difficult it is to look him in the eye like this. Noctis doesn't pull away from him. It's true, it's all true and he hates that he cannot refute a thing; that even now Ignis is thinking of him, putting himself first despite all the pain Noctis is sure is causing him. If Ignis had been less noble, less honorable, would they still have a conversation like this?

But Noctis shakes his head anyway, willful to a fault. Say yes to him again, deny him nothing; he's done it all his life, he cannot stop now. ]

What do you want? Tell me.

[ He shouldn't have mentioned what he wanted; it's not possible. There's no point in breathing life into something that can never really live so he shakes his head a little bit in response. No sense in wasting away hoping for something that neither of them can have. ]

I don't want this.

[ It slips out quiet, raw, like it takes everything in him to say those four words. Once he's said it, though, there's no taking it back. I don't want this. He never wanted this, but they're slaves to the system they've helped build and Ignis' life was never his own to begin with. It was always Noctis'. ]

[ I don't want this, Ignis says, and something breaks inside Noctis. There it is, the pain, wounded and raw, overriding every selfish thought Noctis has, every possessive desire, everything that makes him want to keep him with him. The king swallows hard, and finds that he can't quite look at him anymore. Ignis must be in such pain, if he's willing to want to leave him for it, and Noctis knows, he knows he cannot ask him to stay.

Something hot prickles behind his eyelids, and he looks away. Looks down. He doesn't want this either -- this is never what he wants, to hide Ignis like a guilty secret, to keep him by his side even though being near him hurts like nothing else he's ever known. ]

Then go. [ And it's the hardest thing to say, the words choking the life out of him. Once he leaves, he will be empty -- there really will be nothing here for him, save for the rigors of his duty. ] But... will you give me tonight?

[ The problem isn't that he doesn't want Noctis. The problem is that he wants too much. Ignis wants things that he knows he'll never be able to have, and while normally it's not a concern for him, this time it is. This time, the person he wants is next to him at almost all hours during the day, and when he's weak, at night. He could get used to it - he has gotten used to it and he needs to do better.

Please don't tell me no, don't ask me to stay, he pleads silently, willing Noctis to let this go. When he does -- when he agrees, Ignis isn't sure what to do with the sense of overwhelming disappointment. He hadn't wanted Noctis to fight him on it, but he also hadn't considered how final it would feel knowing that he was going to do this. He's not prone to split-second decisions. The paperwork had only been a consideration, but in the span of twenty minutes, his choice had been made. It was made the moment that Aranea gave him the option.

Noctis asks him for more directly after and Ignis closes his eyes again, strokes his hand over the line of his back, wishes things were different and then whispers, ] No. I don't think I can.

[ There's never just one more time with him. One more turns into another and another and another and while Ignis was always destined to follow Noctis to the ends of the world, he can't do this. ]

Octavia is a good woman. She'll likely be the mother of your children. Your country needs this to work.

[ Ignis denies him and Noctis says nothing, only curls up into him and closes his eyes, fighting tears -- he's a grown fucking man and this is a terrible showing. It's a terrible showing but in the same vein this is the love of his life, the first and the only, and perhaps the last. Octavia is a good woman, kind and clever and she deserves so much better than Noctis, wounded and too in love with someone else to be of much comfort.

He should go. He should leave instead of dragging this out, that it's better to just hurt all at once than to leave it limping, dragging. But he's always been the masochist, greedy for one last touch, one look. The way he breathes and the warmth of his hand. He says nothing, but he doesn't sleep, tucked in his arms. He wishes things were different too; he wishes for so many things, wants even more -- so much of it oriented around Ignis, and all of it now, finally, ended.

Noctis doesn't sleep. He stays in his arms quietly until the darkest hours pass, and he kisses his forehead and extricates himself from his arms. Goodbye, he wants to say, because he cannot pretend that this isn't an end. What he wants from Ignis, he can no longer have for both their sakes, and if Noctis had loved him any less he would have hated him for all of it.

He goes back to the royal bedchambers, climbs in next to Octavia. She takes him in her arms, sensing more than knowing-- the breadth of his hurt an open wound that calls to her. He lets her, and she tries not to think about how he smells like Ignis whenever they pass in the halls. She tries not to think about how his shoulders tremble, minute and barely noticeable in her arms, and how warm, wet tears that are not her own stain the fabric of the nightdress she wears. They don't talk about it -- in fact, they don't talk about anything at all. She holds him until she sleeps, and hours later, she has her answer.

Ignis Scientia is leaving Lucis, employed on a contract on an indefinite basis. She listens, and her husband is nowhere to be found when the adviser departs. There is a sense of defeat about it all, a sadness in the set of Ignis' shoulders that she's no stranger to, and she doesn't need Noctis to tell him anything to know, to understand. Ignis is leaving her husband, and, as the days become weeks to months, she realizes that he's taken her husband's heart with him, too. She does her best to mend what's left, but it's difficult to look upon him when he takes his own grief as a companion, when it stays with him and underscores all that he is. He's lonely again, isolated in ways she cannot reach, and there are days when she's furious that he would take her heart along with him, too.

Things would be so much easier if they weren't about love.

But she does her best. Fulfills her duties as Queen, bridging both countries and setting up foundations for a stronger, more lasting peace. They work well together, Noctis and her -- they share similar thoughts, similar passions; a drive to make things better for their people, with an eye for the big picture. She establishes more alliances together with him, and eventually, one day, she becomes pregnant. Noctis smiles for the first time in weeks, genuine and warm, and even if the sadness isn't driven completely from his eyes, she considers this an acceptable turn of events.

He's attentive with her, caring. He makes sure she has everything she needs, but Noctis doesn't love her. She understands this even when it hurts, especially when it hurts; that Noctis could never belong to her. He does right by her, even if whispers had reached her ears about her husband and a dalliance with another lover, a scholar; tall, smart, accomplished and handsome. When she sees him in court one day, green eyes warm behind his glasses, she finds her truth and his. But it's dispelled after that, like a dream -- she will never know that Noctis had said the wrong name in bed; and this man who had shared his bed with the king had swiftly, quietly removed himself from his side. Noctis does the best he can with what he has -- rules well and does what is best by his people. He works harder than anyone else, and even if he listens for news about Ignis, even if Octavia on the occasion provides him with updates, he doesn't allow himself to hope.

Something in his heart withers, heartache set deep in his bones and immovable, putting lie to the adage that time will mend all wounds. Time has mended nothing for Noctis, barely touched what festers, hidden away carefully. He misses him in all the great and small ways, in the way their touches had been so casual, how Ignis, ever at his side, had been more than just a lover. He was partner and soulmate, a companion that completed him.

In his absence, Noctis doesn't know what to do with himself but devote all that he is completely to the kingdom. He keeps little for himself -- and what little there is, he still doesn't quite know what to do with. The comic books in the library go unread; Ignis' last gift to him, steeped with too many memories. He drifts, unmoored when he isn't conducting royal duties or busying himself with their new child.

A girl, he is told, and in her he finds a measure of happiness.

Soon, Octavia gives birth, and it's one of the happiest days in his life; but the day draws near when Ignis is to return, and Noctis doesn't even begin to know what to feel about it -- anticipating and dreading it all the same; Ignis had left to get away from him, to end this thing between them. The number of times he had attempted to text him, to send him emails, or even the occasional greetins had gone aborted. They didn't talk about it, did they, the new parameters of whatever it's decided to be? Prompto and Gladio are good on their own, and he depends on them more than he would if Ignis had been around, but there's nothing to be done for that now. They don't talk about Ignis in front of Noctis -- and perhaps they'd known, too, why he had to leave.

The princess is three months old when Ignis returns, and Noctis keeps his distance when he pays a visit to the Queen and the baby, dark-haired with the bluest eyes. Noctis, who longs more than anything to see him, to hold him again, only offers a distant greeting before he's swept up by his ministers. He doesn't see him for longer than that, eschewing his presence at meetings. He's not ready, he thinks. He's not ready to see him again.

Octavia prompts, one night. Tells him that it's obvious that he's pining. Go and say hello, properly. Noctis only smiles that sad smile, and puts Luna to bed. Octavia, dissatisfied and displeased, informs him that she would prefer to sleep alone for the night. Noctis says nothing, but uses the spare bedroom he does when there's too much work and heading back to the royal chambers is too far a walk. They don't sleep in the same bed for days, and Ignis' presence back at the Citadel becomes something resembling normal again. They need him, Octavia knows. They need him more than anything. Noctis is never seen in the vicinity when Ignis is around, and Octavia wonders if the man's developed some sort of ability to slip out seconds before Ignis enters; or enter just after he leaves.

She decides that she doesn't want to know, but she cannot help the anger that stirs in the pit of her stomach. She tends to her daughter, and Ignis assists, rendering impeccable aid and providing even better company. To think that she had once envied him his position -- how she wanted what he had, how much she desired Noctis' love the way he so easily claimed his. Now, it seems like too much of a mess, and she tires of it. Ignis is pleasant to talk to, and as days go by she understands why Noctis would love him to the exclusion to all else. Ignis, too, is easy to love. He charms, his thoughtfulness second to none, and that warm, low voice speaks volumes. If she had not loved Noctis so, perhaps she would have fallen for him, too.

But tonight, she summons Ignis, a sheaf of papers laid out neatly on the coffeetable before him. She had acquired these in secret three months before the birth of Luna, had wavered -- had thought that she could be used to this, that as long as she had her husband by her side, she wouldn't need his heart, his love. But things don't work that way, do they? She's seen the way he looks at Ignis when he thinks nobody's looking -- those eyes full of painful, awful longing, filled with a depth of emotion Octavia knew she could never have.

And she is nothing if not a practical woman -- it's pointless to hold on what can never be yours. Cracking open an expensive bottle of wine, she pours just a glass for herself, shelving her own heartache to prepare for this inevitable talk. They had loved each other since the beginning, Octavia knows -- they had loved each other since they were children, and while Ignis was the affair, the dirty little secret, she knows better than anyone else that the story isn't all that simple. In this story, she's the interloper even if neither one of them saw it that way. Their duty to their people had broken them apart, and Noctis doesn't seem to be able to know how to repair himself despite best attempts. Octavia, the Queen, now understands that she wants no further part in this. Better one gets hurt than all three -- better her husband finds his moorings; Octavia isn't too far gone that she would allow her heart to be crippled the way his has, the way Ignis has.

Men, she thinks, are more fragile than they often let on; and for all their preening, they fall quite short of so much.

So she waits for Ignis, and nods when he has leave to enter. ] Chamberlain. Sit.

[ Do you swear your fealty, do you promise to protect the crown in any and every way you can, will you always do your duty? They're a series of questions that he'd seen written in a Crownsguard class room for the younger children. The ones whose families were close enough with the crown that their positions were guaranteed. He, too, had gone through classes like this, raised in the certainty that where others may wonder or just not know, he did. He had a purpose from his birth. His purpose was one his family had held to for years, each new Lucis child working with the child of a Scientia.

Had he wanted to, he could have had his pick of any job, back then. Trained for the Crown but not required for it-- if he had chosen to leave and further his studies for a while, he had a sister that could take over. She would need additional training, but the option was open for it, if he needed. He'd never needed. From the moment that he met Noctis, he'd been sure that this is where he was meant to be.

Gladiolus talked to him about it, once. Prompto and Noctis were still curled up in the tent, laying over each other like puppies that had played too much and were tired out. Gladiolus and Ignis were outside the tent, the former drinking a beer, the latter nursing a coffee while he stroked the feathered head of his chocobo, and enjoyed the warmth of the fire. You ever think about leaving? About how maybe this wasn't meant for you, despite the whole family...business?

Ignis had debated it a few moments, wondering if Gladiolus was beginning to doubt now that things had really gone to shit, but no. A glance over at him reveals that Gladiolus is watching him almost knowingly, amber eyes steady, not guilty. Maybe before, but I don't really recall back that early. I just know that I want to be here by his side. My duty hasn't changed even if the specific situation may have. You're Noctis's Shield, but I-

You're his right hand, Iggy, Gladiolus had finished quietly, and oh, he realized. That was a knowing look, because he wanted to talk about that. Ignis grimaced, patting his chocobo on the head and waved it off before it could even start. My duty is to be at his side in whatever capacity he requires and I haven't failed that yet.

Nah, I mean. If anything it seems like you're real intent on doing your duty, Gladiolus had said with a nod at the tent, and Ignis' face had flamed. Gladiolus always was better about talking him into things, at shaking him out of his own head when he was being a fool. If only he had the power to do this now, but no. Ignis fall asleep to the unsteady sound of Noctis' breathing and when he wakes, he's alone.

When he sends Noctis' schedule a reminder notification of his departure the next morning, he's alone until Gladiolus and Prompto show up to hug him goodbye fiercely. He's still got quite a few of his duties - it's an extended work trip, where during the base hours he works with Aranea's men and the time difference means he can still make conference calls for anything involving Lucis. The kind of running away teenage you would've been proud of, Gladiolus says into his ear, squeezing his shoulder. It's enough to jar him, to make him hiss out a breath, angry that he'd do this but Gladiolus doesn't look smug or knowing, he looks sad. Like he figured this was going to happen and he's disappointed in it.

Well, if he and Noctis were going to be disappointed with how things went, why not add Gladiolus to the list. Make it a full set and add Prompto.

The trip there is easy, despite the way he's in turns furious at himself and the reactions to this, and desperately, horribly tired, wanting this period of aching to be over. It's not enough that he can go a thousand miles away from Noctis and bring everything important to him; Noctis still has a grip on his heart even this far away. It's too much. But the work out here is good work, it's important work for the Crown in a different way and the business of all of it distracts him. He doesn't flourish, but he does well. He balances both sets of duties, provides immaculate records on time and works himself to the bone in a way that he would never get sick of.

He and Aranea linger together when they can - their schedules are often opposite but they stay in the same room, because despite not being in a relationship neither of them are interested in fucking anyone else. Aranea because it's time-consuming and boring, and Ignis, because he doesn't have time outside of work. He could marry her, maybe. It'd make sense the older they get, as they know they can deal with each other for long periods, in confined spaces. He'd let her do whatever she wanted with her job and he'd be free to work how he liked. It would be comfortable.

It's never suggested, but Aranea grabs him when he even edges close to the subject, shaking her head. You're cutting an hour out of your day or I am, and you're going to go out. You said this was to help you move on, so move on.

Strangely, it does help. He meets more people this far away. None that he's particularly interested in but plenty that he becomes shockingly good friends with. He writes to the people that he dated in Lucis that he got along with, too - against all odds, this year is the one where he talks to people the most, out of any of them. He maintains friendships and remembers how to exist on his own, in a capacity. Truthfully, he thought he'd feel as lost as he does that first month but things settle into a very acceptable sort of middling ground. Nothing exceptional, but it's passable. It's a distraction.

It's enough that when the contract ends, he holds off on signing. He ought to go back. There's a child, now, and he misses all of them fiercely. Aranea tells him the contract will wait; this should be a vacation. Two months, and if he's back at the end then she'll know right away he's taking the job. At first he thinks it'll be too much to come home; he's felt lost without Noctis so close, but email and phones being up again means that he can do his job just as well remote. They're not fighting to save Noctis' life constantly any longer. He doesn't need to worry.

My duty hasn't changed even if the scenery has.

The first night is a good one - the Crownsguard take him out drinking and while he barely drinks more than a bottle and a few shots others buy for him, it's good to see everyone again. Prompto goes through pictures, Cor buys him a shot of something that smells good, but extremely spicy and then presses a hand to his shoulder. I'm asking you for Regis' sake, and the King's. Corner him if you have to but don't let him be an idiot.

It's shockingly close to something some would almost call treason, but that's not what gets Ignis. It's the fact that a moment later, Cor tilts their shot glasses together and says, Regis would've wanted him happy and he knew that was with you.

It's an older wound, but one that's still tender. This is where Gladiolus learned to strike so deeply with his words; Cor the Immortal's had a long time to learn how to make them hurt but not disable. He takes the advice for what it is and rejoins the party after purchasing a round for all of them. In the morning, despite the rowdiness, he's up and taking stock of everything. Their replacement Chamberlain - not his sister, but more a mix of people taking on the duties in the castle, is not...bad. It's just not as efficient as having someone who knows them this well. He steps into place like a whirlwind and soon enough things fall into place, but there's no Noctis. Cor was right, he might have to go after him. A few weeks, that's what he'll give it and then chase him if needed. In the meantime, he has no end to what he can occupy his time with and with Noctis missing, he finds he's spending more time with Octavia.

It's not far for her to see any of the hurts he's buried deeply, so he keeps everything about Noctis cooly professional. He's wonderful with Luna, and it's clear he genuinely adores her right away. He presents Octavia with a present he'd picked her up where he was - close enough to the Empire that he could take a trip to an old candy factory that she had mentioned she liked, back before the darkness. It's up and running, even if it doesn't have distribution back, which means he brings her a whole box of it to tide her over.

The night she asks him over, he's come fresh from three different meetings the state of the household and different things he thinks they should adjust and edit in his time gone. It's productive, but he's tired and looks it, slipping into the room two minutes early instead of five; he'd gotten caught in the hallway. ]

I apologize that I was almost late; I forgot the immediate change once you're readily accessible.

You're still early, you know.

[ Octavia points out simply. Like Noctis, she's not predisposed to airs, but there's a polish to her that speaks of her elevated station despite the casual nature of this meeting. Ignis looks run ragged, exhausted -- she knows for a fact that her stubborn husband has eschewed his presence in meetings. Where he had once sought his counsel, he now chooses to cut it off, much to her irritation. Ignis does his best, and under his lead the household runs much more smoothly. Now, if only she could get a hold of the secretaries that run Noctis' schedule, to bend their ear to give their king a break once in awhile. The problem being that the King, being an idiot, often finds matters of state to involve himself in.

It's not new for Noctis to travel incognito, to head to places that most need rebuilding and spend a few days there. Or visit the chocobo ranch or a whole host of cat shelters, but that had been the extent of it. Noctis is not predisposed to making friends easily despite his gentle nature, and Octavia cannot help but feel for her wayward husband. Cor Leonis feels similar, as does his friends, she knows, but when Noctis is determined to withdraw, there is precious few that can reach him.

Tonight, he's in a conference with a few ambassadors to Nifleheim, a conference Noctis had requested to be brought forward to fill up the space in his schedule. She wonders if it's to avoid Ignis, or to give himself to do. She's not quite sure anymore. Reaching for the wine bottle, she raises it and gestures towards the empty glass. ]

Thank you for making time to see me. Would you like a drink?

[ On his own calendar, a week from today is a blank spot. One hour is set aside to talk to Noctis. From there, there are another three hours settled and then the easiest of meetings after. Either he's going to need those three hours to settle himself down from the ache of what could be a very final end to their relationship, or it will be uncomfortable, but bearable, and they'll continue as they have so far. Which is to say, not seeking each other out, and Ignis...leaves again? He's not sure - if Noctis won't even talk to him, that's something else entirely.

Leaving or staying won't fix that. There's nothing he can do until he has the talk, though, and secretly he can hope that maybe Noctis will take the time out of his day to say something, but no. His schedule is always full and Ignis doesn't push at it, not wanting to touch something so raw right now.

Octavia, somehow, is easier. It's a strange world.

He settles across from her, glancing from her to the wine, hesitating a brief moment before agreeing to take a glass. ]

I know, but I also know that five minutes where we're both free is rare, so I was trying to get here a little earlier to save you it for later. It's fine. Thank you for the wine, Your Majesty. What can I do?

[ Noctis misses him. He misses him too much to trust himself anywhere near Ignis. He catches glimpses of him, his gaze lingers when he thinks no one's looking closely enough to notice, but he gets nothing past Prompto, who nudges him to talk to him, to close that distance again -- it's the only way they can fix things. His friends are worried, and Gladio definitely tried the tough love route; but the king is no longer a boy to be pushed around, and the fallout had threatened to crack open the bond that they shared together.

He looks at the slot on his calendar, the time set aside for Ignis that one of his secretaries had put in -- ostensibly through pressure from Octavia. His queen has never directly intervened except for pressing circumstances, and he wonders if this is one that she's considered an extraordinary matter. In the meantime, however, Octavia regards him for a moment. Ignis is polite, professional, and a part of her wonders how he's taking this separation, how Noctis had seemed determined to enforce distance no matter his obvious feelings about his return.

Does he see fit to venture back out again? Surely it will be to her benefit, but it will be Noctis and the Citadel that suffers. Even so, a part of her is reluctant -- it would be so easy to turn a blind eye and pretend nothing is going on under her watch. It would be easy to continue this charade, but to what end? Their love keeps her shackled here, a burden she does not wish to bear, and she reaches for the clipped sheaf of papers. At the top of the neatly printed stack, the heading is obvious enough. ]

I would like you to convey my intentions to my husband, and the Council. I will be initiating divorce proceedings.

[ There's a stack of papers on the table and idly, he tries to go through the list of what he's provided her to figure out if there's anything he's missed or that was not adequately handled. It isn't as if he thinks he's in trouble, but it is perplexing that he wouldn't have been told if he'd made any errors, or if she needed any special assistance. His job is as much to serve her and their daughter as it is to serve his king.

But no, what he expects and what he gets are two entirely different things.

At first he thinks he's misheard. There's no possible way that she's truly looking into divorce - she knows her country needs this alliance and their marriage as much as Lucis. It's possible that he's misread her, that he's miscalculated in his protection of the king and she's grown tired of this, but he hadn't...really considered that as an option. Rather than allow himself to jump to conclusions despite how easy it would be, he takes the wine and curls his fingers around it tightly, taking a long drink. ]

I...can of course. Have you already spoken with Noctis about this? He -- I know things have been difficult here, from what I've heard, but I was not aware they could be this...bad.

[ It's a tentative tendril extended to her - a question, probing to see if that's what's going on here, if she's desperately unhappy or if maybe there's something else at play here. ]

You are aware, aren't you? My husband is still in love with you.

[ There's the elephant in the room they must address, and Octavia gains nothing by beating around the bush. She's clear-eyed, raising her head to meet his gaze. Her face is a mask of dignified neutrality, even if the long sip she takes of her wine betrays just a little. Things would be easier if not for love. ] It didn't work, did it? What you tried to do.

[ She sees it in Noctis' eyes, and in his as well. She's taking his measure, wonders if it's worth giving it up. She has a daughter to consider, even if the groundwork has been laid for Nifleheim and Lucis to move towards interests that go beyond the outdated concept of arranged marriages. No, businesses linked to each other will find a way, and she's only just concluded the trade agreement together with Noctis, let it sit long enough for ties to be made. Businessmen respond to money more than the concept of patriotism, she understands it perfectly.

Crossing her legs, the queen leans back. ] Do you really not know?

[ This is why he likes her. She treats all situations with the same sort of grace, but she doesn't hesitate to go straight for the throat. Ignis smiles thinly, glancing from her to the paperwork, not saying anything about the equally long drink she has from her glass. It can't be easy for her, whatever she needs to do. He understands that. ]

I can't tell if it hasn't worked at all or if I've miscalculated and it's worked too well.

[ If Noctis wants nothing to do with him, then so be it. Ignis is the one who left. He has no delusions about anything he's...owed. That said, the idea of losing Noctis is a nauseating one. If things are going to be like this forever, he's not going to stay. Maybe they need more time.

It's the inverse of before. Where Ignis had waited for ten years to see Noctis come back, Noctis has evidently waited one and found it too much. Ignis can't say he blames him. The one year felt a thousand times worse than the ten, sometimes. ]

I'm sorry. Truly. Neither of us had any intention of things...interfering with this new world that we have tried to build. It's my fault, for not breaking it off sooner once he had married you. I thought the time away would make things...easier when I tried to come back. I've never been as practiced at telling Noctis no as I would like; distance would help, I thought. If it's made things worse, know that was never my intent.

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