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Noctis had walked away from the campsite some time ago, leaving Ignis, Prompto and Gladio to sit around the campfire in an uncomfortable, heavy silence. It had been so long since they had been together as a group. So long since they’d had their King with them. And now they were going to lose him again. It wasn’t enough time. Casual greetings had covered internal struggles and their mission took priority over all else. Noctis had been especially driven to move forward, hardly pausing to take in all that had changed in his absence. The goal was within reach. The plans were in place. The forces had gathered, ready for this day now that it had finally come. But they all needed to rest before the final push toward victory.
Ignis wanted nothing to do with rest. He’d had a decade of hard training, relearning and bare survival. He was exhausted in both body and spirit. But rest was not what he wanted. He knew that his King needed to center himself and focus on the challenge ahead. That it would be selfish of him to interrupt while Noctis took this time to himself, but as the minutes passed in solemn silence around the fire, he found himself unable to bear it. He stood slowly, straightening his uniform.
“Ignis?” Prompto’s voice was curious and quiet.
“I’m going to speak with Noct for a moment,” he answered, stepping away from the campfire and immediately missing its warmth.
“Don’t,” said Gladio from where he sat, though the words held no note of command. “Give ‘im time.”
“I won’t be long.” Neither of them said anything more, but Ignis heard the slow creak of Gladio leaning heavily back into his chair.
Ignis had grown accustomed to navigating in the dark long ago. The sloping stone of the campsite was an easy task. Easier than fixing their dinner had been. It had been such a very long time since he’d prepared the meal the four of them had eaten, but it seemed to have been sufficient.
As the stone underfoot turned to uneven rock and grass, he wondered how far Noctis had gone from the campsite. Not that he was worried; he knew his King was more than capable of taking down anything that might approach. Had been even before he had gone away.
“I’m here,” came the familiar voice some distance to his right.
Ignis turned and made his way around the edge of the campsite to where it began to slope upward again. The crunch of rocks under his boots sounded far too loud in the still air. The distant sounds of daemons had become almost background noise over the years. He clung to the faint crackle of the fire as he walked toward Noctis, one hand touching the stone of the campsite as he moved along. He may not need that guidance as he once did, but it was still reassuring.
Still several steps away, he halted, letting his hand fall from the solid stone to hang at his side instead. He cleared his throat, not entirely sure how to begin. Time was short, however. He may as well cut to the chase. Still, he struggled to speak the words. “Is there no other way?” He was inwardly thankful that his voice remained steady.
Noctis sighed, sounding resigned and distant. “You know there isn’t.”
He could tell that Noctis was facing away as he spoke. That he was leaning back against the stone. Ignis took a tentative step forward. “You don’t have to do- “
“No,” Noctis cut him off, voice firm but without heat. “I won’t run from this. I won’t leave the world in darkness.” A tense silence stretched out between them, broken as Noctis let out a long breath. “But I won’t say I’m not afraid.”
Something felt as though it was splintering in his chest at the words. He felt his throat tighten as the gravity of their mission pressed down on them again. He wanted nothing more than to comfort his King. To take away his burden and shoulder it himself. Anything to spare him this unkind, undeserved fate. “Please… don’t do this,” he said faintly, unsteady voice betraying him at last.
“I have to.” He could feel when Noctis turned toward him. Could picture the expression on his face. “You know I do.”
His hands clenched uselessly at his sides. “I know,” he confirmed, turning his face away slightly to hide the tear that had slid down his cheek. When another followed only seconds later, he closed his eyes. “Let me come with you, then.”
A short pause, and he could hear the small smile in Noctis’ voice as a hand landed on his shoulder, gripping gently. “It doesn’t work like that, Iggy. It’s not possible.” Noctis took a step closer, speaking carefully and pulling one of Ignis’ hands up to rest on his chest. “But you’ll be here.”
Ignis could feel Noctis’ heartbeat even through the layers of royal attire; steady and strong and alive. The hopeless desperation he’d been holding in check was beginning to break through. He knew there was no other way, and yet he could not accept it. He would not accept it. “But- “
“Even if it were possible,” Noctis interrupted, letting his hand fall from Ignis’ shoulder, “I wouldn’t take you with me.”
He took a step back, feeling as though he’d been kicked, the air stolen from his lungs. His heel caught a corner of stone and although he caught himself in time, he slid to the ground onto his knees, legs having lost the ability to support him. “Why?” was all he could manage. His voice was hollow and his soul even more so. Appearances no longer concerned him. He knew he must look pitiful, but it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing would matter anymore soon enough.
Suddenly there were hands on both his shoulders. Noctis had come down to his level. “Ignis,” he began, voice hoarse but firm. “I am going to die.”
Ignis lowered his head further, swallowing the protest that rose in his throat, instead whispering, “Please, Highness…”
“I have to,” he continued. “For everyone’s sake.” Ignis only shook his head. “You knew this was coming. You knew even before I did. It has to be this way.”
He didn’t want to remember. Didn’t need to be reminded of how he’d kept the information to himself. How he had rejected the vision in the hope that it would never come to pass. How he had clung to the foolish, naïve notion that he could alter it. “I would do anything to- “
“Live.”
“What?”
“Live, Ignis.” One of Noctis’ hands rose to his face, gently wiping away the tears. “You’re strong. Stronger than people give you credit for.” The smile was back in his voice again, though it trembled. “You’d have to be to put up with me in my teens.” Noctis punched him lightly on the shoulder and laughed. Ignis nodded, smiling slightly even as new tears ran down his cheeks. Noctis continued more seriously, “Knowing you’ll still be here watching over the others…” his voice caught, and he paused to clear his throat.
“Watching over the others?” he repeated blankly.
“Knowing you’re still here and living your life…” There was a long silence and Noctis picked up one of Ignis’ hands with both of his, gripping it tightly. “It gives me the strength to move forward.”
“Noct,” he began, but the tightness in his chest and lump in his throat prevented speech and the words devolved into suppressed sobs instead. He fought to regain his composure, but it was far beyond his control. Because his King was so close and yet nearly gone. Noctis was saving the world and leaving it. And what was the point in living without him? His whole life had been devoted to Noctis. Even during those ten dark years without him, the knowledge that he would return was his strength. It had been the thin strand of hope that kept him going through all the hardships. His guiding light. They had only just gotten him back. And now…now he would be gone forever. If it meant Noctis would live, he would gladly give his own life. He had already lost his sight for trying just that so many years ago. But he couldn’t form any of his pain into words, instead covering his mouth with his free hand to stifle the sound of his sorrow as his body lost what little strength it had left.
As Ignis slipped to the side, Noctis caught him, pulling him into a supportive embrace. “I know, Specs,” Noctis murmured sadly as he sat back against the stone, bringing Ignis with him. “Believe me, I know.”
It felt as though the world had fallen apart. The distant daemons and the chill of the night air didn’t register at all. He clung to the moment, willing it never to end as everything seemed to pour out of him. It was useless to try and stop the tears. He knew he was shaking. He knew that Prompto and Gladio were likely to hear him. He also knew that he didn’t care. This would never happen again. Soon, far too soon, the voice and touch of his King would be only a memory. And what use was Ignis then? He lost track of time as he let himself fall apart within Noctis’ protective embrace. Noctis spoke to him softly, and though Ignis couldn’t quite understand the words and they were interrupted now and then by quiet tears, the effect of his voice was soothing. As it always had been.
He wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way, lost for a time in the desperate misery of their circumstances. But Ignis calmed after a while, sobs turning into whimpers and finally into silence, leaving him feeling regretful and not a little ashamed of his outburst. After a long while he tried his voice again. “Noct, I- “
“Keep cooking.” The words were broken and muffled, spoken into his hair, but Noctis took a breath and continued, “that’s what you should do.”
Ignis choked out a weak laugh that came out more like a gasp, “What?”
“Keep cooking, Ignis. Everyone loves your cooking, and I know you enjoy it. Open a restaurant or something.” He felt Noctis rest his head on the stone behind them as he went on, “Put some good back in the world.”
“Noct…”
"Will you do that?" He can hear Noctis’ voice waver again. “For me?”
There was, of course, truth in Noctis’ words, and Ignis couldn’t deny his King. Even now. Especially now. He nodded, unable to speak, relishing these last moments, memorizing the way Noctis’ hands felt with ten years added to them. He knew his new face from the vision, but he wished he’d seen it smile. A long while passed, the only sounds the distant daemons, the faint crackle of fire and their breathing. Ignis sighed, finally resigning himself to the inevitable. He would do as Noctis asked. He would go on. He would do what he could to put a spot of brightness back in the world, even if he couldn’t see it himself. But there was one more request. One final plea. “Wait for me.”
“Hmm?” Noctis sounded sleepy.
“Wait for me,” he repeated quietly. “On the other side.”
He felt Noctis stop breathing for several seconds. When he spoke, his voice was tight. “Of course.” A hand came up to the scarred side of his face, warm and comforting in contrast to the command of his next words. “But you take as long as you can. You promise me that, Ignis.”
Though profoundly painful, in his exhaustion, it’s pushed down into a deep dull ache. Anything for his King. “I promise.”
Noctis relaxed slightly, tilting his head until it rested against the top of Ignis’ before whispering, “thank you.”