Iris thinks she's seeing a ghost. It's been six years since then, she's almost twenty two now, not the little girl she was when it happened. There's light now, no more daemons, the world still seems messed up though. A vacuum of power after the fall of the Niflheim Empire has caused a bunch of small states to crop up, all competing for power. Lestallum surprisingly enough has proved to be a force of political power in the fractured world they live in.
Holly and Dave run it, they go to political meets, they barter over exports and borders. Insomnia is now just a pile of ruins. It's weird to be in this moment, living before, during and after the cusp of history. She's actually up there in military prowess, acting as a commander for Dave (she can't think of him as Chief Auburn of the citystate Lestallum). Aranea helps train troops, she's not technically allied to anyone, but she's got a soft spot for Iris, one that's lead to encounters that make Iris a woman now, in more than one way.
That's him though, sure as the sun rises. He looks fragile in the wheelchair, all his muscle gone. His hair is long, pulled back in a loose ponytail, and there is a gentleness to his face and eyes Iris doesn't remember being there. She doesn't love him like she did, she's too old for puppy dog adoration. Now he is just a point of sadness and a nearly holy respect. Noctis Lucis Caelum, the final king of the Lucis line, the man who sacrificed his life to bring light back to the world.
Iris steps closer, not quite believing what she's seeing. He sees her, a smile runs across his face.
"Hello," he greets.
It's him, that is his voice. Iris sinks onto the nearest object available for sitting, staring at him. He looks concerned, rolling his wheelchair over and asking her if she's alright. She doesn't respond until his hand is reaching out for her, she bats it away.
"Sorry, just got dizzy for a second," Iris says, excuses.
He doesn't look annoyed at all, just soft and understanding. It's like the fairy tale memories she has of him, sweeping up to save her or bringing her flowers when she was sick. She feels bitter about it, this world isn't fairy tales.
He's in a wheelchair, he's too thin to be eating enough and his expression is such that she can tell he experiences chronic pain. Life's made her sharp to certain things. But he's acting like he's a fairytale. And just as suddenly it makes her tender.
"Sorry ma'am," he says softly, "can I get you anything?"
"Noctis," she says, deadpan.
He looks confused.
"What's that?" He asks kindly.
Iris blinks, he doesn't remember.
"Ignis? Prompto? Gladio?"
He looks more confused and also more concerned.
"Are you hurt?" he asks.
She waves him off, so over males dropping fragility and tenderness like it means something. This world fucks you over without considering if you're fragile, feminine nature can handle it. Daemons don't differentiate between children and men, neither does the rest of life.
"Nothing, just, give me a second."
She needs to call Gladio. Her brother has spent the last six years holding guilt and some fucked up sense of romance in his head. Iris couldn't believe she'd ever see her big brother moon eyed over anything. It's stupid, annoying, it's also painful. Gladdy dies every morning when the sun comes up, and Iris hates it. She'd hate Noctis, but, she looks over at him and sees that he's putting together a meal, for her.
He rolls over in his chair, and hands her the food. He works here then, at this little hunting byway.
"You do good work, we need more hunters," he says, pressing it to her, making assumptions, being kind.
So not a fairytale, just someone who believes in people being good. It's almost worse.
Iris sits down on a container of Ebony, the crate almost high enough for her feet to leave the ground.
"You've got amnesia, don't you?"
He looks startled, a little scared, but there's also this wide eyed vulnerability which makes her feel that for once she can be the Prince.
'How do you know that?" he asks quietly.
She tilts her head.
"We met when I was five. My big brother's in love with you. We all thought you were dead."
He goes real pale, fingers clenching on the wheelchair.
"I-I have people?" he asks quietly.
Iris regrets her blunt manner for a moment. She softens.
"Yeah, you have people."
Iris loads him into the car. They drive to Lestallum. She calls up Gladio and tells him that he needs to get back, now. He says he'll try. She wants to spill everything, instead she snaps at him to do better than try. He quietly agrees. It makes her wonder when they swapped roles, Iris now the aggressive pusher and maker, Gladio the quiet, gentle one.
Noctis is real good about everything, he's actually wonderful company in the car, not asking too many questions and having a way of talking that's more like listening to a book or some soft melody. He's soothing, Iris thinks it's good reasoning that she loved him when they were little. He's genuine, he cares, and he's not a misogynistic prick, but he doesn't feel real, some ephemeral sensation to his presence, like he'll float away.
They arrive in Lestallum. Prompto and Cindy's oldest runt greets them. The kid prances about the car, demanding gifts, and answers about the mysterious stranger. Iris would tell little Noctia to beat it, but she's got a soft spot so she doles out candy and gives the kid a hair ruffle.
Cindy comes out, heavy and plump with their third baby. She pulls off the pregnancy glow that Iris believed was a myth. She stares at Noctis as Iris helps him with the wheelchair.
"Oh lawd," whispers Cindy.
"Where's Prom?" asks Iris.
Cindy regains composure quick.
"With Jack, picking up car parts."
Jack is their second kid. Cindy wipes her hands on her jeans, she's just come out of the garage.
Iris tosses her head and helps Noctis to the apartment building most of them live in and share. She can tell he's hurting and tired. Iggy is out at some citystate peace meeting helping with discussions on water resources.
It might be better that way.
Noctis falls asleep in his chair once he's up in his rooms. They're actually Gladio's rooms, not that Iris thinks it really matters. She heads out, waiting for Gladio to show up.
He finally pulls up, getting out of his beat up pick-up. He sees Iris and smiles, lifting her in a bear hug.
"I got something for you," says Iris.
Gladio tilts his head, but he follows her all the same. She opens the door to the rooms revealing a slumbering Noctis in his wheelchair. Gladio freezes, his eyes well up and Iris suddenly doesn't feel so smug.
Gladio takes a faltering step forward and then collapses to his knees in front of Noctis. He carefully grabs one of the hands and brings it to his lips, pressing kisses to it three times before holding it to his cheek. Noctis stirs and looks up. He's groggy and confused looking.
"Do, do I know you?" says Noctis softly, obviously taken aback at the sudden intimacy he's woken into.
Gladio just stares at Noctis like he is heaven and earth combined.
"No," Gladio says softly, carefully relinquishing Noctis' hand.
Noctis reaches out for Gladio, a fogged frown of something in his gaze.
"I-I think I do, I just," Noctis looks pained.
Gladio starts to withdraw, eyes closing off.
Iris thinks that maybe this was a mistake.
"No," Noctis says, reaching again for Gladio. "Please stay."
Gladio nods his head and Iris realizes she's seen too much. She leaves them.
Walking out to the street, she stares off at the distant view of the Rock of Ravatogh. Aranea approaches her, as if waiting.
"Hey possum," says Aranea, dipping in for much too bold of a claim for somewhere this public.
She backs out though with the same smooth confidence and grace.
"I think I gave Gladio back his sunshine."
"Didya now?" says Aranea with some interest.
Iris shrugs. Or maybe she's believing in fairytales.