Author Notes: This chapter is a little more of world-building. I'm trying to keep the chapters rather short, rather than the long and rambling ones I usually put out. I'm trying to think of a way to do this naturally, so please just let me figure it out as I go!


Ignis slipped his arms around Noctis's body, pulling him close. When they had gotten back to Ignis's apartment the two had fallen straight into bed. Noctis had been withdrawn, curling himself into a small ball in the center of the bed, but as always Ignis allowed himself to fan around the other. It would have been an uncomfortable feeling for some, but for them it was normal and natural.

They had always slept that way, curled against one another.

Ignis slipped his hand through Noct's locks, cherishing the feel of the soft black between his fingers. It was like touching spun silk, and Ignis couldn't help but run his fingers from roots to tips.

It was a comfort that held no words, though he had tried once to explain it to Gladio. Falling in love, no matter how much it would infuriate the advisors and call into doubt Noctis's future marriage, was something that didn't need words. At least, not in the way some typically thought of romance.

He had hoped Gladio would understand. Gladio, whose love for sappy romance novels that gave Ignis a toothache, had only been able to arch an eyebrow and mutter, "Wow. Lame."

Ignis watched Noctis breathe, at the slow rise and fall of his belly. When he twisted more into a ball Ignis caught sight of the ghastly, unseemly scar across his lover's back. He was thankful that the bruising and swelling had faded from the potion he had stashed under the sink, but also that he had not been too injured in the first place. He slipped his hand from Noctis's hair down his back, letting his fingers run over the damaged skin. He felt something inside of him pull at him as he traced the tree trunk scars, and watched with rapt fascination as his fingers gently glowed with a pale, purple light.

Whatever it was, it brought some comfort to Noct. The man's back relaxed and he seemed to unravel from the pain that had contorted him into such an uncomfortable position.

The brunette pulled away his hand as the light faded. He pressed it against his forehead, closing his eyes.

Ignis had looked into the magic, and through the books he had read he had been led in circles upon circles. There wasn't a logical reason at first as to why he was talented in the arts of the Crystal; he had become attuned with it young, and had always used it to care for Noctis.

Yet he remembered with the clarity of a bell a story that Regis had told him and Noctis when they were little boys. It had been a bedtime story, one meant to make them think, but Ignis… Ignis was certain it hadn't been meant for this.

The story had been of a daemon hidden upon a hill, who stole little boys and girls away from their parents. Children who would wander onto the hill were lost, until a brave prince and princess fought it with swords and magic. However, the prince was grievously injured when he slew the daemon and was only saved by the magic of the princess's purple light.

Ignis never dared to show King Regis or Noctis the light in his palms that he had learned to wield after the Marilith attack. It had come one night, curled up against Noctis's side. The boy had been stuck in a nightmare and Ignis would have been willing to give anything, anything, to make his pain go away. The light had twisted and pulsed its way from his fingers and toward Noctis, the lines of pain on his forehead disappearing.

Ignis knew he should have said something, but…

He had searched into his family history, comforted by the fact that somewhere in the Fourth Lucian dynasty a Lucian princess had married into mother's line. There were other rumors, rumors that the Chosen King would have a consort who would be able to use the magic of the Lucian Kings…

Ignis had nightmares for weeks between learning of the rumors of old and his mother's lineage. The thought that Noctis would be the King of Kings, the King of Light… it was something that kept him awake until his body physically couldn't continue on.

Ignis leaned forward and rested his lips on Noct's shoulder, revelling in the feeling of his lover adjusting himself in comfort, rather than pain.

"Iggy?" Noct whispered, voice cracking.

"Hm?" Ignis hoped that the magic hadn't woken him. lt was still something he preferred not having to explain. Ignis was not sure what had happened to those born of somewhat noble birth who were given some connection to the Crystal. And, well…

Noctis would think it were about the story, about the long-told prophecy of the King of Kings. The last thing Noctis needed was the weight of that near his already weary shoulders.

"Can you…" Noctis trained off, but Ignis knew what Noctis wanted.

"Of course." He kissed Noctis's shoulder again before scooting himself up into a sitting position, thankful that they had opted to return to Ignis's apartment. The backboard gave him at least a little bit of support as he lifted Noct's head onto his lap. "Just close your eyes and rest, Noctis. Whatever will be will be."

"Whatever will be will be," Noctis whispered, and Ignis could hear something inside his lover's voice. It was something that stirred up a fear, a sinking feeling in his gut. It spoke of weariness and pain and time, and Ignis did not like it. With Noctis, anything was possible. With Noctis, Ignis felt like he could move mountains. Even if King Regis was furious, they would meet whatever battle he laid before them head-on.

It was their motto, their promise.

"Sleep, love," Ignis ran his hand across Noctis's brow, though he hesitated when he felt the wetness on Noct's cheek. He knew his lover wouldn't want to talk about whatever was bothering him—had he wanted to, Ignis was sure Noctis would have said something. It was the only way they were able to work together, to always understand one another.

Openness.

Commitment.

Honesty.

Even if it took Noctis a while, he knew that when his lover was ready he would open up.

"Iggy… I love you."

Ignis smiled in the darkness. "And I, you. Sleep, for the dawn will bring clarity."

Noctis made an uncomfortable noise, something between a hiss and a groan, but Ignis only resumed the gentle caress of his fingers across Noct's cheekbones and dimples.

Ignis could worry in the morning.


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