"Ignis, Iggy. Please. What the fuck's gotten into you? What happened to your hands?"

Ignis could not formulate words that were coherent, instead staying on the floor with Noctis half-wrapped in blankets next to him. He refused to allow the other man a moment to step away or even to put on his pants, though he were sure he would be hearing complains into the future over it.

It didn't matter because Noctis was there, Noctis was alive. Noctis was unbroken and breathing and so beautiful it made part of Ignis die, then come to life again.

And his lover knew that there was something wrong, because it would have been impossible for the man not to see it written so starkly across Ignis's face. How could explain it to him? How could he speak of Altissia, of the farce of a wedding, of Lady Lunafreya's death? How was he supposed to explain Ardyn, who had blinded Ignis and then, in the end, taken something so much more precious? How was he supposed to tell Noctis of the World of Ruin?

How was he supposed to explain the scars across his palms?

The ones on his heart?

"Noctis… I… It was the Crystal."

Noctis blinked at him and reached forward again to grab Ignis's hands. "What do you mean, 'the Crystal?' It's a rock, Iggy. What did you do, try to pick it up?" Ignis knew that tone of voice, the way Noctis's voice cracked and he ever so slightly capitulated to the pressure of the magic that was invisible to all but those of the Caelum line. His shoulders hunched forward just enough for it to show the back of his lover's neck.

Ignis reached up and rested one hand against the junction between his hairline and spine. "Noctis, you would do well to remember that we both know that is a farce."

Noctis sagged another ever so slight amount forward. "Don't go near that thing, Ignis. I'm serious. It's not something good."

Oh, Noctis. Sweet, naive Noctis.

He had no idea of the true fathoms of his words. He had no idea that the Crystal would swallow him whole, rip away ten years of their lives, would take the sun and the moon and the stars from Ignis's world. A dastardly, devious King of Lucis… his crown stolen from him. A man forced to walk with daemons wrought inside his soul, pulling at the pieces to play puppet once more.

The Crystal…

It should have been destroyed, the darkness that was Bahamut and the magic. It was evil, it was distorted. The Ring of the Lucii—it didn't take long for Ignis to realize that there was something inside the ring that breathed an intoxicating and terrifying air of blood magic.

And yet if they destroyed the Crystal…. Eos would die, a withered husk that had once been the cornucopia of dreams.

"I don't want to go near it," Ignis finally admitted, keeping his fingers pressed against that space, the little space that gave such remarkable comfort. It had been something they had picked up on their journeys. Noctis, no doubt, did not know it.

He had yet to suffer the pain of the Covenants between himself and the Astrals… and if it were up to Ignis, he never would.

There were other ways; there had to be better ways.

During the years of silence, of the dwindling light, Ignis had taken Aranea or Iris with him on his exploits through the World of Ruin. The three were excellent daemon hunters together, though Ignis knew it was no comparison to when it was the four of them… before. It was hard to stay near Prompto and Gladio after Noctis went into the Crystal; they never said it, but Ignis knew that they blamed Noctis's disappearance on themselves.

They wanted to blame Ardyn, and they certainly did, but it was their responsibility to protect Noctis… and they had all failed.

And so, Ignis found himself with Iris and Aranea more often than not, scouring the sites that made Ignis's dead eyes tear up. They visited each Royal Tomb, searching for what they hoped would bring them closer to finding the truth of what happened to Noctis, where they would be able to find him…. If they would be able to bring him home.

It was Costlemark Tower that gave them the information they had so long ago sought, as well as the drawing of what was the first King of Lucis.

The true King, the one forgotten by time and warring bloodlines.

Ignis could not see it, but Aranea could, and her words had been more than enough to cement the facts, to finally allow things to click into place.

"Yeah, that's that creepy chancellor all right."

The more they searched Costlemark Tower, the more they understood about the Starscourge, about what it did—about what it was made to do.

What Noctis would want to do.

About what he did.

"Ignis, please. Just look at me. Tell me what is going on."

Ignis looked up into Noctis's blue eyes and they looked the same as they had that last night together. They had taken their own room in the Leville… a parting gift because they both knew that something would happen the next day, even though it was never spoken. There had been something in the air, an impenetrable fog that Ignis could not escape… and he had laid with Noctis against the finest sheets they had experienced since the beginning of their trip to Altissia.

They had felt like they were home.

Ignis let his hand trace down Noctis and then into the sheets, letting his fingers grasp at the soft, fine material. It rubbed against the calluses on the pads of his fingers, against the scars across his palms, and Ignis couldn't lie.

He couldn't do it.

"Noctis… has your father ever spoken to you about the Crystal?" They both knew the King had tried, but Ignis wasn't sure how much of it Noctis had truly listened to.

He could surround himself in finery, could read the papers that Ignis would lay out before him in crushing blue binders that contained a world Noctis never wanted, but underneath all of it Noctis was still young and scared. He was still searching for the reason to his existence, trying to stay away from the haunting melody that was the siren's call of the Crystal.

"I… some. Yeah."

Ignis nodded and felt Noctis shuffle across the floor, closer to him. "Did he ever speak of the Forgotten King?"

Noctis shook his head. "Uh, not that I can remember. But whatever it is, it's got you tied up in knots, Iggy." He reached out and rested his own hands against Ignis's shoulders. "It can't possible be that big of a deal."

"Yet you are quite incorrect." Ignis knew the story of the Forgotten King; it had just taken the time to connect the dots.

"There was a King, once upon a time. He was gifted with the Ring of the Lucii, with the promise of the Crystal. He came from humble beginnings, but inside of him and his line ran the blood of the King of Solheim."

"What's with the history lesson—"

Ignis raised his fingers to Noctis's lips. "Hush. Let me…. Please, just let me speak."

Noctis's mouth was pulled down into a frown, but he acquiesced.

"The King had a queen and a child, blessed by the Six. He was meant to be the healer of Eos, to stand by the line of Tenebraen Oracles and to clear the Starscourge. He could take in their tainted souls and clean them of their blight."

The books on him were hard to find and even harder to transcribe, particularly considering Ignis was blind and had to trust the work to others. Yet some of the Glaive had been willing to help him in the chance that what he would find would be able to heal the Starscourge and return the sun to the sky. It was a chance for him to return Noctis to his throne, to pull him from the Crystal.

"If he was so important then there's no way we'd forget him."

Ignis closed his eyes and reached up, pushing his glasses up. "The Six forsook him. His blood was deemed unclean, his soul tainted by the magic he had warped and the daemons he had taken upon himself."

It was still so strange to have sight; the Crystal knew that every moment, every unbearable moment of the past ten years had been real. Ignis could remember the twinge of the fire across his skin even now. Yet opening his eyes to see Noctis, it was like coming home.

"The King was imprisoned upon the Isle of Angelgard, kept hidden in shame, as they could not kill him. The rot of his soul was too immeasurable." Ignis had tried to find what came of his family, of the child mentioned, but there were no records. Ignis wasn't sure if it had been that the Caelum line had erased their sin from the pages of history or if it had been Ardyn. "He stayed there for a millennia, listening to nothing but his own screams and the sound of the sea."

When he put it that way, it almost made Ardyn seem to be a sympathetic character, a man that was moral and good. Yet Ignis knew there was nothing moral and good about the man; he was no more than a monster. Nothing could cure the taint in his soul. Perhaps once upon a time, in the days of old, Ardyn Lucis Caelum was a righteous King, a just King, a loving King. But time had taken that, and so had the Crystal.

"In Costlemark Tower there is a key to a library in the lowest pits of the dungeon, past the Jabberwock. We traversed the deadly tunnels, past the daemons, and we found it. I had Iris and Aranea bring the books back with us, anything that would help to explain what could have happened…. Where we had gone wrong." Ignis looked away from Noctis, whose face was contorted in confusion.

"Who's Aranea? Costlemark Tower? And Iris? Iggy… when you said it was an Omen of the Stars… what did you mean?"

Ignis didn't look back into Noctis's face until his lover grabbed him by the chin and pulled his face forward.

"Are you even Ignis at all?"

"Don't be daft—"

"You can't hear yourself, damn it!" Noctis shouted as he grabbed Ignis and pulled him close, smashing their lips together. It was not a kiss of love or passion, but something between fear and panic.

Noctis pulled their mouths apart. "Are you Ignis? What did the Crystal do to you? Ignis, fuck—"

There was a sound of a clatter against the door and Noctis pulled away from him and skidded across the way toward his bed. It was locked, but if Regis was on the other side then it would only be a moment or two before the man would come inside, not caring for the compromising position that Noctis was in, the blankets barely hiding anything of his body.

The thrumming of the magic was beginning to pull at Ignis's stomach; it was the way the ring felt when it was too close, the way it tried to beckon him into its embrace, oily like tar and daemon blood. Noctis told him just once about the whispers and the pull of its magic…. It wanted Noctis to give himself to its power. It wanted him.

"Noctis, it is me. Please don't be frightened. You know that I would never lie to you, Love. There's no reason to be frightened." Not of Ignis. The ring on the other hand?

That was evil, no matter what Bahamut had said. There was nothing holy about its power.

"Then who is trying to break into my room?"

Ignis shakily got to his feet; this wasn't how he wanted this to go. He wanted to hold Noctis, to never let him go again. He had yearned for this moment, wished for it thousands of times under millions of stars, shouted his anger towards the heavens to the gods who did not listen.

He was being given his second chance; he couldn't lose it.

He couldn't lose him.

Not again.

"Your father, no doubt. I did leave quite abruptly. No doubt he has his questions." Ignis walked past the mess on the floor of blankets and toward the door. It would be best to meet the King outside of Noctis's chambers, to allow Noct a moment to collect himself.

"I'm not wearing any pants."

Ignis almost could have cried at the way Noctis's voice lilted there and how normal, how simple and human that sound had been. Had it not been for the incessant knocking on the door, Ignis would have been happy to spend the morning wrapped around Noctis. He just wanted to hold the man, to feel that heartbeat against him. He wished that the King would have given him longer….

"I'll take care of your father. Please put something decent on, lest he think I debauched you."

"Iggy… you're going to need to explain yourself." It was almost comical how the roles had reversed. Yet, Ignis knew as he slowly opened the door into the main room that he would need to explain to Noctis. He simply did not know how.

"Love, put your clothing on. I'll speak with your father." Ignis was tempted to tell the King to bugger off, to allow Ignis time with Noctis; he hadn't even gotten more than a few moments with him. He needed this, in a way that a man stranded in the desert thirsted for the cool sensation of water. He was a man, dying of thirst… and Noctis was the only thing what could sate him. Just the chance to look at him, to watch him… to get to explain this to him...

Noctis pulled up his blankets around his waist, the black silk reminding Ignis of the night sky above them during all those nights in Lucis. He nodded his head, ever so slight, as Ignis slowly opened the door and slid his way out, greeted by the face of King Regis and Clarus.

"We were not done with our conversation, Ignis." King Regis's voice was not cold, but he knew it was the voice of a King speaking, not a father. This was a man whose Empire and only son stood certain death and Ignis had told him as much.

"Your Majesty," Ignis began, but Regis cut him off.

"I am sorry, Ignis. If I could, I would allow you the chance to reunite with Noctis. I do not know how long it has been since you have seen my son—" Ignis bit back a wince at the choice of words, but he hoped it hadn't shown on his face, "—but there are things that must be done. When The Crystal gives an Omen we must record it. Otherwise…"

"I assure you, I shan't forget it." It would be hard to, having lived in the darkness for ten years…

"And I believe you. Yet, Ignis, we must know what the Crystal told you. You have been the only one to see the Dawn, the destruction of the Accursed."

Ignis looked to Clarus, whose mouth was drawn into a severe slash across his mouth, his hand idly playing with the sword. The visitor had put both men on edge that much he could remember. The halls had been abuzz with the promise of what would happen in the aftermath of the visitor's trip into the Citadel. It was almost absurd how clearly Ignis could remember the way Noctis looked across his sheets, about the way the light crested against his cheek, and yet it was so difficult to remember the pieces before that moment or after. It had only been Noctis that was important…. Until this moment, until now.

The continuance of the bloodline. Lady Lunafreya. The taint of the Ring and how it would pulse inside of the Crystal, holding Noctis inside.

"Regis, we should give them some time. You know what the Crystal's power can do."

Ignis looked to Gladio's father, to the man who had helped craft the perfect lance for him when it was his turn to learn to protect Noct. These two men, who had been more tha just his King and his Shield, yet now seemed so distant. Gladio was the Shield now, and Noctis...

Noctis was his King.

Ignis had questions, so many questions. Was what he had seen real? He could remember every nerve on fire. He could feel the blood on his hand, the ash of Noctis's body… his cold lips…

He was careful not to allow the feelings inside of him to cause him to crash down to the ground before the King and his Shield. It was close, but he only barely managed to fight the urge. Yet, despite his hope that the King would not notice he was certain that Clarus had, for the man was quick to grab his arm to steady him.

"Regis, I think it would be best if we allowed him to rest. You were laid up in bed for days after—"

But Ignis cut him off. "Your Majesty, you are right." Despite wanting that time, that precious moment to feel Noctis's warmth… there simply was not enough time.

What mattered now was not what Ignis needed, what he yearned for. What they needed was time and there was scant amount of that available. It was only a matter of days from when they first left Insomnia until the night of the signing. It was... it was too fast. It was too much.

The door behind them clicked open and Ignis was careful when he turned to see Noctis. He wasn't wearing his fatigues, instead scrounging up a pair of jeans and a t-shirt of one of those terrible bands that Noctis had so loved. He hadn't brought any of them on the trip and he had always assumed that what was left of Noctis's stash would no doubt be in the boxes inside his apartment.

It was always the smallest of things that made Ignis love him. Even his terrible t-shirt collection. It had always been Noctis, and would always be Noctis.

"Is anyone going to explain to me what's going on?"

Ignis could not look at Noctis, not at that moment. Instead he turned to stare at the room, looking back and forth from the chandelier to the soft black carpet. Yet the room was nothing but ghosts from long ago.

If he closed his eyes he could see Noctis sitting on the couch, one leg thrown over the arm of the chair with his phone dangling out of his hand. He could see Noctis at the small table to the side, tapping the table with his pencil as he learned the basics of writing. He could see a thousand scenes of their young childhood together in the room, and Ignis was logical enough to realize that what was happening was no doubt influenced by the queasy feeling in his stomach.

"It's best if you give us a moment with Ignis, Noctis."

"I'm not leaving him."

"Noctis…" Ignis tried, but was cut off. The feeling was rushing up his stomach, pulling him down. He could feel it like a poison spell. No, not poison. It felt more like the moment he had been pulled backward, pulled by the magic, pulled by the Crystal.

"Noctis, it's best if you don't come with us—" King Regis began, but he was unable to continue as Ignis's knees finally gave out below him.

He could hear it in his ears, against his skin, on his eyelids, in Noctis's voice when he yelled his name.

Something in his head, something….

It was laughing.

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