Before Dawn
The slightest pink started to cut through the black above Altissia. Night still held dominion, but the first signs of the upcoming morning were beginning to crack through.
Noctis tugged at his jacket. The choppy, sea air sent a chill through the breeze that—while pleasant in the late afternoon—left this dead hour colder than expected.
He rubbed his eyes as he walked the solemn, empty stone streets of the city. He always loathed these early hours, a fact famously known to anyone who had ever tried to pull him out of bed. But as much as he hated dawn, he couldn't bear to take this walk when the waking world was up and playing. He wanted to be alone.
The storefront was dimly lit at this hour, but the constant display lighting within the window box provided enough of a glow for Noctis to see inside. Silently, he pressed his hand against the glass. For a moment, he became distracted by the reflection of his own face. It surprised him, not because it was ten years younger, but because his eyes still managed to look haggard and aged.
Breathing left spots of fog on the glass. Noctis brushed it away with his sleeve and fixed his gaze on the treasure behind it.
The dress was even more beautiful than he remembered it. Beside it, a posed bouquet of those ever-familiar, deep blue petals. And on the back wall, perfectly framed in gold, was her portrait. Noctis's chest tightened as he stared into her face, her eternal smile.
The air got a little colder.
"Why'd you come back here?" came a voice behind him. He didn't turn to face the sound.
"It's too crowded during the day," Noctis murmured.
"That's not what I meant."
"I know."
The raven-haired woman slid forward to the prince and took his shoulder, gently turning him to meet her gaze.
"What do you have to gain by torturing yourself?" she asked.
The prince's eyes shyly fell away.
"It's not torture…"
"It doesn't hurt you to look at that?"
"Of course it does!" Noctis momentarily snapped before falling again into a hush. "But I don't…I don't care. I want to look at it."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to forget what it looked like," he said, peering again at the wedding dress. "And because it's beautiful."
Gentiana smiled at the back of his head.
"You should've seen it on her."
"It's going to happen tomorrow," Noctis murmured. "Tomorrow she's going to stand on that ledge and summon that beast. And what's happened will happen again. But right now, everything's still."
"You're putting off your responsibilities, you know?"
"I know."
His body—his real body—lie a miserable decade ahead in the crumbling remains of Lucis. His father's throne and every lifelong responsibility and expectation he shouldered, they all waited for him on the other side of time.
Yet here he was.
"Does your guard know?" Gentiana inquired.
Guard. The word sounded so ridiculous in Noctis's ears. He remembered how their sleeping forms looked as he snuck out of the hotel. Gladiolus's slack-jawed snoring. Prompto's restless kicking in his sleep. Ignis, slumped over in an easy chair, arms crossed and somehow still looking way too serious. He couldn't bring himself to speak to them after traveling back. It almost broke him just to see them, younger and less beaten down by the battles that would come.
"No."
Noctis traced his finger along the glass, outlining the dress.
"She deserved this," he said. "She deserved so much more. So much more than…than…"
"Lunafreya performed her duty," Gentiana stated as Noctis balled a fist. "And she did so exceptionally. Truly the Oracle she was raised to become."
"I don't care about kings and oracles. I never did."
Gentiana clucked her tongue. "Apparently, seeing how you're running away to look at dresses."
"I'm not running. I just needed to…"
"What do you think she'd say to you right now?"
The prince went silent.
"That's what I thought," the woman said. "You can't abandon your duty now, Noctis Lucis Caelum. Not after what she's braved for you."
He nodded. "All right…I'm ready."
"You're certain?"
He nodded.
"The dress," she said, pressing her palm to his cheek. "Do you have its image locked in your mind?"
He nodded.
"Good. Take it with you."
With a cold surge of light, the woman's form began to change. Her outstretched arm was at once a sculpted stretch of frosted ice. The last image Noctis saw before being swallowed in that light was the smiling observation of a goddess. Shiva watched on as the boy's soul slid away and tumbled through the years toward a world of ruin. A future to confront.
He awoke again in Lucis. His flesh older, his hair longer, his face unshaven. The smiling eyes of Umbra watched with great curiosity. Noctis smiled and petted his vigilant companion.
"Thanks for the detour," he said before gripping the Sword of the Father, "but I think it's time I go repay my bride."
And so it came to pass. The prince reclaimed the throne, struck down the clown, took on the mantle of king, and paid his dues to the patriarchs of Lucis. And as his body dissolved into the stream, Noctis gave form to his thoughts. The images in his mind.
The dress remained for him.
And it remained for her too.
In the unending sea, Lunafreya came to him. She blended with the blue and wrapped herself in the eternal white of the gown. The treasure locked away behind Altissian glass was at Noctis's fingertips, the texture brushing against him. He wrapped his arms around his bride's waist and gripped her tight as they floated together, for moments and eternities, until the timeless void that contained them slowly began to twist into shapes and shadows.
There was a kingdom. A celebration. A wedding. Noct and Luna took their appointed positions and at last embraced as king and queen. Man and wife.
Petals fell. Applause broke out from the corners of the scene, unattached to physical hands. They had no outside audience, but they were not alone. The sea itself served as witness to their union.
Swept away by a tide, a lifestream, Noct and Luna found their forms again taking shape in a long field of blue. The flowers of Tenebrae spread out in every direction.
Lunafreya knelt in the field, and as Noctis took her hand, she laid her body down. Supported and cushioned by the high grass, she smiled.
"You remembered the dress," she said, barely above a whisper.
The king nodded, trying not to blush.
"You liked it?"
He nodded again, this time definitely blushing.
Slowly, she lifted her right leg, leading Noctis to cradle her ankle. He rubbed his thumb across the white hose that wrapped around her pale skin.
"Let me show you I remember," she quietly said, directing his hand to the bottom hem of her dress. "What you never saw."
Noctis felt his face go red as she put her hand on his and led it up her bridal skirt. His chest swelling he clutched onto the tight presence around her thigh and took it in his grip. Peeling slowly, his hands emerged with her garter, a striking band of silver-dusted white, with the tiniest pair of blue flower petals attached in the center.
Luna shyly smiled and clasped her hands together, cheering for his efforts.
Noctis awkwardly laughed.
Again, she put her hands on his, and let it to her legs. He nodded. Responding to her encouragement, her gripped the bridal skirt and pulled it upward. While doing so, he glanced up and saw Luna start to blush, despite the encouragement and excitement in her eyes.
Her pale body was clad in a second layer of glorious white. Noct's pupils grew wide as he studied the poetry and allure of it. Her pale, transparent stockings were tautly gripped by bright white garter belts, stretching upward to the ivory lace of the bridal lingerie she was clad in.
"Do...you like it?" Luna carefully asked. "We never...in Altissia, we never..."
Noctis responded only with a kiss, hungrily dipping down over her body and cradling her face in his hands. Both lovers cried, desperate for this moment of reunion. Noctis dropped his hips down, sliding between the stockinged legs of his bride. Releasing her mouth and madly kissing down her neck, Noctis felt his heart pound in rhythm with every excited breath that escaped from his Lunafreya.
"I...I love you!" she gasped, feeling his tongue slide down her collarbone.
"I love you!" he responded, tasting her throat, her chest, the swell of her breasts plunging forward from the lace bustier.
His thumbs hooked under the elastic of her garter belts and held on tight.
"Luna..." he began in a hesitant whisper.
She nodded emphatically, tears of overwhelming joy cascading joy rolling down her face.
"All right..." he smiled, carefully pulling away at her clothes and his own until they both clutched each other naked in the tall glass.
She pressed her palm to his cheek. He pressed his to hers.
Then, as they embraced once more, the King of Lucis pushed his flesh and soul gently into the form of his Oracle, his Beloved, his long-awaiting Queen.
Two perpetually distant bodies at last formed one flesh, and as the song of their breathing echoed through eternity, the flowers of Tenebrae that surrounded them erupted into a wash, filling the scene with a sea of blue splendor.