…4…
Noctis waited until Gladiolus offered to go across to the diner to get them dinner and Prompto was sleeping off the last of his headache to speak to Ignis. His advisor was sitting up against the headboard of one of the beds, eyes closed as he rested. He said the hit had taken a great deal out of him, and while Prompto's headache persisted despite the healing potion for the gash on his scalp, they were inclined to believe him.
He'd been sitting in a chair beside the window for a while, quietly contemplating the empty street outside, chin propped on his fist. He hadn't really said much when Gladiolus announced he was going to get food, even if no one really seemed like eating. The door clicked shut and Noctis waited for another minute before he got up.
"Ignis…" he said quietly, glancing at Prompto's sleeping form across the room. "We need to talk."
Ignis opened his eyes, lifting his head from his chin. He looked pale, gods he was so pale. It made Noctis's skin crawl with worry. The advisor blinked a few times, shifting on the bed.
"What is it, Noct?"
Bothered by the softness of the man's voice that wasn't just a polite whisper, Noctis reached for his bag where it sat at the foot of the bed. Bracing himself, he pulled the dagger free and held it out. Silent.
Ignis's eyes widened for a few seconds, then he had the decency to look away.
"I'm sure I…" Ignis started.
"Don't," Noctis cut across him, stepping closer, still holding the dagger out. "Just… don't."
"Forgive me, Highness…" Ignis sounded so small suddenly.
"Why?" Noctis shook the dagger, his brow furrowed. "Why is this here?"
"Because… I needed it, Highness." His voice was a little firmer, but still small, still weak. "I didn't have a choice."
Noctis dropped the plain, almost ugly dagger onto the bed. It bounced against Ignis's leg, but neither man moved to pick it up. Noctis couldn't decide whether to be angry or worried, so he settled somewhere in the middle.
"Why?" he repeated through gritted teeth.
"Because I can't summon, Highness." Ignis finally looked up, eyes searching Noctis's face for some understanding. "I can't call my own weapons to bear."
Noctis curled his fists against his hips. "And… when were you going to tell me about this?" he hissed, stepping forward again.
"I wanted to, Highness. Forgive me, please, but I didn't know how."
"Open mouth. Words fall out. Easy."
"Not easy, Highness," Ignis argued. "Not… easy. How could I? How could I tell you, Highness, that one of your retainers, sworn protectors, couldn't? What use would I have been?"
"Ignis…" Noctis shook his fists and sighed. "You're so smart that you're utterly stupid. How long has it been like this?"
Ignis looked down and away again, trying to remember. "Nearly… three weeks."
Noctis actually growled. "You… idiot!"
He moved forward, grabbing Ignis by the shoulders, giving him a shake.
"You idiot! You're so stupid! How could you do that? How could you not… not tell me? Is your gods damned pride so important to you?!"
Ignis made a small sound and grabbed Noctis by the collar of his jacket. He yanked, still surprisingly strong for looking so weak, and pulled Noctis until the Prince's forehead rested on his own. He realized the Prince was crying, feeling his fingers bruising the skin of his shoulders with the near death grip he had on him. The tears fell onto his own cheeks, wet and hot.
"Highness… forgive me," he whispered. "I just didn't want to add to your worries. You carry so much already, I had no inclination of adding my own sickness to your burden. Please Highness, forgive a fool."
Noctis shifted, crawling onto the bed and curling up against Ignis's side. Much as he had as a child, if Ignis remembered correctly, when schoolwork or his training or his father or his lack of friends got to be too much for him, and he needed a respite from the world. He lay his head on Ignis's stomach, soft silent sobs causing him to shake. Ignis closed his eyes, running thin fingers through smooth, jet black hair. Noctis snaked an arm around his advisor, honestly his first true friend, clinging to him.
Ignis knew that Noctis felt responsible. By the Six, he knew the boy felt responsible for every hardship the three of them faced. Each bump, bruise, scrape, cut, burn or patch of frostbite, Noctis bore their pain as his own. If it weren't for him, they wouldn't be out here. They wouldn't be pursued by the empire, hunted at every turn, their steps dogged by monsters and daemons and the horrible creations that came out of Gralea.
But Ignis never blamed him. Neither did Gladiolus, and Prompto was just too blindly loyal to the Prince to blame him for any wrong doing. The older man let out a soft sigh, continuing to soothe the Prince. This level of vulnerability didn't come easy to Noctis; he kept everything so bottled up and put away, it was a wonder he hadn't completely exploded by now. It worried Ignis that he carried so much grief and pain and anger hidden away behind his sullen attitude and quiet demeanor.
"Highness," he whispered, looking down at the one hiding in his lap. "None of this is your fault." Ignis kept his voice low and even, trying not to set him off. "This was my fault, I was wounded and didn't tell you about it. I falsely assumed that I could make it right."
Noctis didn't respond right away, but the shaking had subsided. He lay still against Ignis, breathing gently, sniffing once in a while.
"I still think you're an idiot," he said finally.
"As always, Highness."
Noctis shifted around and pulled the dagger out from under his leg. He laid it on Ignis's stomach, looking at it.
"It's ugly."
"Quite."
"You can tell it's fake. Or… real. Whatever."
"Of course, Highness."
"There's no markings, no runes or sigils. Nothing to protect you, or aide you. How did you expect to keep fighting with these things and not end up dead?"
Ignis was silent for a few moments. "Gladio."
Noctis raised his head, looking at Ignis. "Figures."
"He meant well."
"He always does. But he should have told me, too."
"I told him not to."
"Idiot."
Noctis laid his head back down, sighing softly. Ignis's fingers continued their combing through his hair, aiding in the young man relaxing again.
On the other bed, Prompto let out a whine and sat up, scrubbing at his eyes. He blinked, looking over at the two on the other bed.
"What's this? Cuddle pile without me?"
Noctis started to laugh as he literally threw himself across the gap, landing on the other side of Ignis. Even so, the Prince is quick enough to shift the dagger behind himself and out of sight. Ignis grunted as Prompto settled against his other side, but shifted to pet his hair with his other hand. The blond all but purred in happiness, even though his head still hurt like hell.
Ignis continued to sit there, giving the two young men his gentle attention, feeling their warmth sink slowly into his body, giving him a bit of strength to keep fighting his illness.
Be careful…
Ignis went rigid, his eyes scanning the room. Noctis and Prompto remained still, so they hadn't heard it.
Don't look now…
His eyes swung around again, landing on the dagger. But it was in midair, level with Noctis's back. He stiffened, opening his mouth.
I bet this can move faster than you…
Gritting his teeth, Ignis stared at the dagger, willing it away, begging it to go away. It shifted closer to the Prince.
"Noct…" he said softly.
As soon as Noctis lifted his head to look at Ignis, the door to the room opened to allow Gladiolus in, and the dagger dropped to the floor.
"What'd I miss?" Gladiolus grinned, setting containers of food on the table near the window. "And why are you all piled up on Iggy? Can't you give him a moments peace?"
