Really should've said this before but: if you want to read this thing properly, I'd suggest heading on over to AO3 because I honestly can't figure out how to format on ffnet. Especially this chapter, because it has a good portion of text that was meant to be struck through, but ffnet doesn't allow me to do that so I kind of just deleted a whole lot of stuff.

i wrote this in fragments and then haphazardly stuck all of it together later, and i didn't proofread bc i am dead so if its confusing or there's sudden shifts in tone pls tell me

also there is now a small other thing attached to this verse called 'writers block af' check it out if ur interested

When Noct is twenty years old, he wakes with a ring clenched in his hand and comes to the realization for the first time in twenty years, he sees only one thing at a time. That he has two arms, two ears, two eyes, two legs, and that he is the King of Lucis with a dead father and no siblings.

When he wakes, Umbra is lying beside him and he doesn't know where Gentiana or Pryna are. His— her— their— the trident is gone.

When they wake, Ignis can no longer see. (Luna can't, either.) It doesn't look like his eyes will ever get better.

They never find the body— it had sunk beneath the waves. Noct can see it now, a body in a white dress falling to the depths below, into darkness, never to be found again. It is Prompto who tells him this, subdued and somber, and he's not used to Prompto being the most informed. But he supposes that it makes some sort of convoluted sense, since Ignis is out of commision.

He doesn't cry.

"During Leviathan's rampage, there were a bunch of imperial ships that were evacuating civilians to safety, rather than attacking," Prompto says. "People say that they saw Luna's brother, Ravus, too. Apparently he was helping Altissians get away from the city."

"Oh," He replies dully.

"The empire found out," Prompto continues, and his voice gets quieter. "The news… the news said that he's gonna be executed for treason."

"Oh," He replies dully.

He doesn't cry.

Secretary Claustra meets with him eventually, and she offers her sincere condolences for the death of the Oracle. "There will be a memorial service for her in a week," She tells them, and although she maintains her usual no-nonsense tone, there's a tinge of regret under there as well. "You are welcome to attend."

"Alright," He replies. "Ok."

So he goes. The crowd is massive, and he sees people from Tenebrae there as well, here to pay their respects. There are bouquets and bouquets of sylleblossoms handed around, till they decorate every alleyway in the city. He sees grown men get on their knees and sob and sob and sob.

He doesn't cry. He doesn't even cry. Not once.

(You do not cry, There is a lady that shouts at him. She's dressed in black, her shawl covering her hair, her Tenebraean accent thick and angry. You do not even cry, not even once? Not even for her? She gave her life for you, sacrificed everything for you, and you do not even cry for her?

Gladio has to forcefully drag her away before she causes too much of a scene, and he only stares blankly at her angry face.

Whatever does she mean?)

Gladio looks at him sometimes, and he knows he doesn't get it. None of them get it. He doesn't even understand it anymore, either.

Gladio looks at them sometimes, and they knows he doesn't get it because who was Luna? Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, a woman he's met once in his life, maybe exchanged a few correspondences over the years. What has she ever meant to Noct? What did she ever mean to him?

Nothing. Everything. Something. Anything.

"I know it hurts," He tells them, and his gruff voice is soft for the moment, the underlying confusion still there. It only grows as the days pass, until he no longer knows anything. "Just hang on. You have to get up, Noct, and move on. We have to go."

We have to leave, Gladio tells them. Leave where? This memorial service? Altissia?

I shall await you in Gralea, my dear, Ardyn mocks him.

"Ok," He replies dully. He doesn't get up.

(But he doesn't even cry. Not even once.)

He needs to tell Gladio. He needs to tell all of them, because there's no point in hiding it all anymore. But his mouth is lead, his lips falter, he can barely make a sound. He's frozen, and all Noct wants to do is close his eyes and sleep and sleep and sleep and never think about it again.

Who was Luna? Who is Noct? Luna, who was born and then simply became. Noct, who did not exist for the longest time. There was never Noct before, just Luna and Luna-as-Noct, and it took him eight years to really become someone. But Luna has always been, and now she isn't.

How is he supposed to be Noct without her?

Eventually, he snaps.

The Accordan government helps them secure train tickets, and they're on their way to Niflheim's capital. They put them on the swaying train, Noct sitting with Umbra in his lap. Ignis, with his new, darkened sunglasses and shiny black cane and ugly, ugly, scar that now mars his face, looks outside the window as if he can actually see anything at all.

"The train'll be stopping at Tenebrae before the capital," Prompto breaks the silence awkwardly, his voice nervous. "We… might as well take a stop there, huh?"

"Not before we stop at Cartanica," Ignis quietly interjects, and everyone, even Noct, looks at him in surprise. "One of the Royal Tombs is rumored to be in the mines."

Noct wonders vaguely how Ignis can act so composed right now, without a hint of a waver in his voice. Prompto's about to open his mouth, probably to ask if Ignis is really going to be able to do this, he—

"That's it. What the hell is wrong with you?" Gladio growls from where he's pacing up and down the aisle, and he finally stops to stand in front of Noct, who absentmindedly pats Umbra. "You need to get your fucking act together."

Noct looks up, and he hasn't seen Gladio this angry at him in a long time. "What?" He asks, looking up at him, his mouth forming the syllable slowly. Something inside him stirs.

"I know that she didn't sacrifice her life for this. She wanted you to do your duty. Get your head out of your ass, Noct, Lady Lunafreya didn't deserve to be stuck someone like you."

Noct freezes. "Stop it," He whispers harshly. "Stop it, Gladio."

"Gladio, stop," Ignis says sharply, and Prompto voices similar thoughts, but Gladio presses on. "Stop moping, Noct, and get on your feet like the man of royal blood you are. You don't have time for this." He turns to look at the others. "We're not stopping in Tenebrae for this idiot's sake."

Noct is shaking, the ring clenched in his hand. "Y-You can't do this," He says through clenched teeth.

Gladio turns to look at him, and there is nothing but condescension in his eyes. "Yes I can." He says easily. "What are you going to do about it?"

What is he going to do about it? What is he going to do about? He can't not go— He has to go to Tenebrae— How could Gladio ever— he doesn't understand— he needs to go there, where she lived—

"I know that she believed in you," Gladio spits out. "And aren't you living up to it, Your Majesty? You'd prefer carrying that ring instead of wearing it? You're just a coward, snivelling to yourself and not giving a damn about anyone around you that's worse off."

It's obvious that he's talking about Ignis, and Noct snaps. "DON'T TELL ME WHAT SHE WOULD'VE WANTED!" He roars. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT SHE WANTED, WHAT SHE DREAMED OF— YOU HAVE NO DAMN CLUE ABOUT ANYTHING!"

"Guys, please stop fighting," Prompto pleads, and even Ignis is trying to get up to intervene. Gladio hauls Noct up from his seat by the collar, Umbra jumping off his lap in alarm.

"It's been weeks, you spoiled son of a bitch," Gladio hisses, and he lets go forcefully. "Grow up and get over it."

"You don't know anything," Noct hisses. "You have NO FUCKING RIGHT to say anything! What do you know about what she would've wanted?! Luna didn't want to die. Do you think she wanted any of this? You're such a hypocritical piece of shit; how do you know she believed in me— you haven't even met her! You don't know a single damn thing about her, and you never will. You'll never meet her, you'll never, ever, ever meet her— not ever, you hear me, not even if she wanted, if she wanted with all her might— and there was so much—"

His fists clench at his side, he looks down at the ground as hot tears finally start to fill his vision. Why did this happen to now? He's not ready for this. He's never going to be ready for this.

"Noct! Ohmygod, he's crying." Prompto blurts out and comes to sit next him. "Noct, are you alright?"

"Gladio, I told you," Ignis snaps. "You shouldn't have pushed so hard."

But the world is fading in and out of focus, and Noct sits back down, only focusing on the hands in his lap. "I-I can't do this," He says blankly. "I can't do this anymore. I cannot pretend like it was nothing. I am sorry, Gladio. I am very, very sorry."

He can see Gladio stiffen in the corner of his vision. Noct sniffs, wiping away tears and snot with an arm. "I didn't wish to die," He lets Luna say. Only it's not Luna, is it? It's just himself now, pretending to be someone he isn't, the same way before there was Noct, there was simply Luna-as-Noct. "I just… had to do my duty, but I didn't want to die.

"But now… now I am dead, and only Noct is left behind." He finishes. He looks up at his friends, his lover, with luminous eyes. "But I did not want this."

Ignis, ever so sharp, is the first to understand what exactly he means. "Your other body… you were Lady Lunafreya. That's why you accepted the marriage proposal so easily, despite…" He tilts his head in Gladio's direction, his meaning apparent.

Prompto gasps and looks at Noct. "You were…"

Noct buries his face in his hands. "Thank you for saving Pryna, Prompto," He says quietly. Prompto flinches.

"Gladio, I'm sorry." Noct's voice cracks embarrassingly, and he can't bear to look at anyone. "I am a coward. I should be worrying about Ignis, but instead I am here, stuck on the fact I will never be able to meet all of you, that I died when I was only twenty-four, and I have done nothing in my life that I wished to do, only what my duty called of me. It has to be enough, but it's not. I wished to make memories with all of you, I wanted to visit the Crow's Nest for the first time, I wanted to explore Altissia together, I wanted so much that I did not get, and I should be satisfied with the life I received, but I'm not."

"I wanted to meet you, Gladio." Noct sobs. "I wanted you to see me and tell me I looked beautiful, prettier than any girl you had ever met. I wanted to kiss you with the body of a woman with blonde hair for the first time. I wanted you—"

Gladio's strong arms suddenly hold him, and he stops rambling on wildly.

"Okay," Gladio's voice is rough, and he sounds shaken. "Okay. Noct, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Noct cries harder. "Me too," He chokes out. "Me too, Gladio. I didn't want to die."

"I know, Noct. I know. I'm sorry."

"I didn't want to die," Noct sobs, and he buries himself into Gladio's chest and lets himself cry all the way to Cartanica.

Here's the thing.

It doesn't matter that Luna is dead. By all means, she's alive. There is only one soul in question, and it's still alive, isn't it? Maybe it would be better to compare her death to a severe body injury. When all of a sudden, Noct isn't able to move half of his body anymore. The phantom pains, if he could even call it that, are what he can't get past. It hurts.

But here's the thing: it doesn't work like that.

It's complicated, needlessly convoluted, their relationship. Luna had been someone, and Noct is someone else. But at the same time, they are the same. Yet Noct is, and Luna isn't.

Luna dies. If they were truly exactly the same, it wouldn't have hurt. It can't have, because Noct would have been exactly the same, and nothing would have been lost. But Luna was someone else, someone with her own life, and Noct will never get that back.

But they aren't the same. That's why Luna died, because they weren't the same, and she had to die.

How is he allowed to say that they are the same, yet not? He's never thought about it, but now that Luna is gone, he thinks. He thinks, and he thinks, and finally he wonders,

is there a difference between Noct and me?

When they reach Cartanica, no one really wants to go down into the quarry. No one is in any mental shape to fight, so they eat a small meal at the dining car, all them picking at their food. It's not nearly as good as the food they're used to, but they eat without complaint.

Then all of a sudden, Ignis speaks up. "Would you mind if I took a short rest in the sleeper car before we head out? If you could take me there, Gladio."

Gladio gives a short nod, and Noct can see it in his face that he realizes too late Ignis can't see it. "Sure." He takes Ignis' arm, leads him down the hallway.

After they're out of sight, it's just Prompto and him sitting in silence.

Noct pokes a bit more at his peas. None of them have said much of anything, and Noct thinks his eyes might still be red.

"So," Prompto speaks up, and he can't bear to look at Noct in the eye. "You're— you were Lady Lunafreya."

Noct looks up from his food, waiting for him to continue.

"I…" And Prompto makes himself look even smaller. "I r-really wanted to meet you, you know? I wanted to tell you… thanks. For everything."

"I don't remember ever…" Noct says slowly, carefully, and even to his own ears he doesn't sound like himself. His voice is lighter, his accent isn't entirely Lucian. He soundly ignores it for now, and continues onward. There was only thing Luna had ever done for Prompto. "Do you mean the camera? There's no need to thank me for that. You helped Pryna, so it was a gift."

(And Pryna, Pryna where is she? Umbra is right here, but Pryna—)

"Well for that too, but…" Prompto blushes. "For the letter. It, umm, really helped me."

"Oh." He hadn't been expecting that. What had that letter even said? He's long since forgotten.

"I…" And Prompto only looks more and more embarrassed. "I brought it with me, when I found out that we were gonna meet you. I thought, maybe if you didn't recognize me, then I could just show it to you." He pulls out a folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket, and he hands it to Noct.

When Noct unfolds it, pressing down the creases, he doesn't see anything especially special about it. It's just the generic thank yous that he vaguely remembers putting in, but then he looks down at the bottom of the page.

I hope you continue to be good friends with Noctis, it says, and Noct understands. He looks up in question, is this why you've done everything you've done, and Prompto, still red, nods.

"Just… thanks," He says meekly. "You probably didn't mean much, but it means a lot to me."

And Noct manages a small smile, and he hands it back to Prompto. "Don't worry about it." And the fact of the matter is, he really hadn't meant anything by it. He wants to tell Prompto that he didn't do anything to help, that it was all just Prompto, but the weight of everything still weighs heavy on him, and he struggles to speak more than he has to.

Prompto takes another look at the letter, and he frowns. "Umm, also. How did you manage to hide your handwriting so well?"

"Luna wrote in cursive, Noct always writes in print," Noct answers, and he also frowns. "I always write in print," He corrects, and somehow that doesn't sound right either. Not wanting to think about it, he hastily switches the subject. "On Pryna's leg— you had a handkerchief with your name printed onto it. That's why I knew it was you."

"Oh, that? Haha, that was kinda weird, huh? It was a gift from my parents," Prompto says, and he mumbles to himself. "I kept forgetting it…"

Forget what, his name? Whatever that means, Noct can't help but look at Prompto gratefully. Despite everything, Prompto's stayed. Out of all of them, he has the least reason to continue on. But he has, and whatever reason he might have, be it a letter Luna had written years ago, Noct's never been more appreciative.

"Handkerchiefs aside, it's… been really hard," Noct admits, and he doesn't need to elaborate. He resists the urge to wipe his face. "Thanks for being here for me. I just… I'm just having a tough time."

"Where else would I be?" Prompto responds, his heart worn on his sleeve and the sentiment clear in his voice. "You, Gladio, Ignis— you're all my best friends. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world."

"I don't— I don't—" And Noct's voice cracks, and he doesn't know what to do. He tells Prompto this. "I don't know what to do. I just— don't want to do this anymore."

I want Luna back, he doesn't say, and Prompto knows what he means, but he doesn't understand.

"Please don't think I'm being dumb," Noct says. "I know that it doesn't really matter, because just because I'm— just because she's dead doesn't mean I am, but it was something. She was something, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it," Prompto responds, and immediately corrects himself. "I mean, no, I don't, but Lady Lunafreya… you weren't nothing. You meant a lot to everyone. You still mean a lot to everyone."

And he knows that. Noct remembers Altissia after Leviathan's trial— purple and black in mourning and flowers. He knows that. You don't even cry, the woman tells him.

(Get over it, Gladio tells him.)

Stop.

"I'm a little worried about the other two," Noct says, and he stands up. "Especially Gladio. I'm pretty sure Ignis didn't actually need to rest. Do you want to go check it out?"

So Prompto follows him down to the sleeping compartments. Noct's not sure which one they're in, until Ignis' voice cuts through, sharp and angry.

"No." Noct can hear him say. "No more excuses, Gladio. No more apologies, and no more pushing. That's how you always are— when something doesn't move, you push. If it still doesn't, then you only push harder. You never realize that it's not the answer."

Feeling oddly like a child again, Noct crouches down next to the door with Prompto, and they begin to blatantly eavesdrop. Should we do something, Prompto mouths at him, and Noct shrugs helplessly.

"I know you didn't understand," Ignis continues, his voice softening just a bit. But the cadences and inflections of his words are still unusually pronounced, the way he always tries to enunciate when he wants his point to be clear. "None of us understood. In that situation, Noct's grieving made no conceivable sense. I cannot blame you for that, I know. But we knew that he was in no state of mind to go on. And yet you pushed anyway, knowing the consequences."

"Ignis—"

"You think you know best, and sometimes you don't, Gladio. You have to learn to accept that. Sometimes you aren't right."

"I know. I know, I know. I messed up."

"You've always disregarded my warnings. Even when he was younger, I would tell you, he's not ready, and you would simply reply You're underestimating him. I'll admit it, sometimes you were right. But this? You went too far. What did you even think deliberately goading him would lead to, for goodness sake. You need to make better decisions, because Noct holds both of us in high esteem, but you especially. More than that, we have long since passed the boundary between professionalism and affection. The closer you are to him, the more damage you do. You had no right to do as you did.

"And let this be a lesson for you," Ignis says, and for the first time in his small tirade, his voice falters just a bit. "Our duty is to support and protect Noct. We never leave his side, physically or emotionally, unless circumstances force our hand. There will be no more 'taking care of some business by yourself,' understand? I'm counting on you, Gladio. Given my current state, I'm not sure how much more I can do."

"You—" Gladio starts, stops, then begins again, his voice quiet. "We're a mess, aren't we? You can't see, and I'm just a massive fuck up. Wonder how we got here."

"We got us here," Ignis says. "There's nothing worth being pitied. All we can do is keep going."

There's a small lull in the conversation, and both Noct and Prompto hold their breath. Noct's heart is beating fast. He knows he shouldn't be listening to this. He knows that. But he can't stop, because Ignis says quietly, "When Noct was a child, we thought he had some form of autism."

"It was all rather strange," Ignis continues. "The staff at the Citadel had brought it up to the king, yet he dismissed it easily after hearing our concerns. It made sense after I was fully informed of the situation, but Noct was an odd child. In some ways, he seemed far more intelligent than he should have been, yet sometimes he would struggle with the simplest of things. He had difficulty concentrating. Sometimes he would forget that he was conducting a conversation and wander off, only to return not long after, having realized his folly. Sometimes his responses were fragmented, and made absolutely no sense whatsoever. No one could follow his train of thought."

And Noct thinks, maybe he hadn't been so successful at hiding everything after all. As a kid, he probably just hadn't noticed what a bad job he was doing. He probably often brought up things about Tenebrae that he shouldn't have known about, and no one in the Citadel could answer him.

"Nevertheless, he was a charming child, if I may say so myself. His irritability and sarcasm later on, I think, were largely byproducts of The Incident. You first met him after that, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Then you never knew him before," Ignis responds, and his voice is achingly sentimental. "Of course, he was just a child. We were both children. But he was always cheerful, intelligent, and I cared deeply for him. I still care for him.

"We are never going to have that child back," Ignis says. "But I want Noct to be as close to that as he ever will be. It doesn't matter who he is, who he was. Frankly, it doesn't really matter what Lady Lunafreya was like. He's Noct, and it is our duty to care for him. And you're not allowed to forget that again, Gladio."

"And Noct, Prompto," Ignis adds dryly. "The two of you may as well come in."

Prompto breathes in sharply and exchanges wide eyed looks with Noct, who slowly slides the door open. Somewhat sheepishly, the enter the compartment. Ignis almost looks amused. Gladio just looks… haunted.

"We didn't mean to—" Prompto starts quickly, only to be interrupted.

"You most definitely did," Ignis replies knowingly. "You two stood out there for at least a minute. I heard your footsteps, and they stopped in front of this compartment for quite a while."

"You could—" Noct cuts himself off, looking at Ignis incredulously, then with a sort of admiration. He's been crippled, handicapped, damaged. If Noct were him, he wouldn't know what to do. But here Ignis is, adapting and surviving and learning to live with it. "You're something else, Iggy. You're really something else. How can you— How are you so—"

Ignis sighs, and he sounds very tired, the way Noct feels, the way everyone in this compartment probably feels. "I'm not anything, Noct," He corrects him gently. "I know my limits. I know how I can be better. For me, that's all there is to it. My responsibilities dictate what I must do, and eyesight or no, I will go on."

Ignis shoos Prompto and Gladio out. Noct doesn't look at Gladio. Gladio doesn't look at him.

They talk freely, for the first time in a long time, like they're children again.

("Tell me about your life in Tenebrae," Ignis says, and he takes off his glasses, opens his eyes. They are green and glassy, unseeing. "Tell me about Lady Lunafreya."

So Noct opens his mouth, and speaks.

He talks about the rolling hills and steep cliffs of Tenebrae, the floating islands and scenic landscape. He talks about life there, the different types of fashion and cuisine and people. He talks about his mother. He talks about being Oracle, and all the wonderful things that came out of it.

He talks about his brother, and all his strange facets and uncertainties. He talks about the loneliness that came with it all. He talks about he spent his days miserable and lethargic.

He talks about Noct. He talks about Luna. He doesn't know how long he speaks, until his voice is hoarse and his eyes are stinging again.)

("I could have healed you," Noct tells Ignis desperately. "You didn't have to be blind. But now you are, and I can't stop that." Not anymore.

"It's not your fault," Ignis says consolingly. "It has never been your fault. All I hope," He confesses, "Is that you do not turn me away. I am of no use to you now. I cannot cook. I cannot fight. More likely than not, I will drag you down. Nevertheless, I would like to continue onward with you all, to the end."

"I'm not letting you leave, even if you wanted to," Noct says back. "I don't know how I could ever do this without you. You've always been here, and I'm not letting you leave now. Just do me a favor and— and stay alive.")

("I feel like we haven't really talked to each other at all through all this," Noct confesses. "I take you for granted too much, Iggy. You're the absolute best, no argument about it."

"Better than Gladio?" Ignis asks in amusement, and in a fit of humor Noct can't seem to find very often anymore, he grins weakly and replies, "Gladio can suck my ass.")

(Ignis says to Noct, "You need to speak with Gladio, eventually. You know that, yes?"

Noct nods mutely, then wonders how many more times he'll make that mistake. Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? Focus, he tells himself. Gladio. "Yeah, I do.")

(Ignis pushes up his darkened glasses. "And now— don't think I can't tell, Noct. You see me, and think, and you try to compare yourself to me. Don't."

Noct blinks. A sense of strangeness washes over him. How odd, he thinks. Wasn't Ignis just talking with Gladio? No, no, they were eating together in the dining car. No, they're in Altissia. No, they've been blockaded in Lucis. Ravus isn't dead. His father is alive. Ignis isn't blind. Niflheim hasn't done anything to them. Then he blinks again, and he's back where he used to be.

"I need to get my act together," Noct says weakly. "I can't just— I can't just do this. Gladio's right. I'm not— it's impossible, I'm not going to be able to do anything like this. Everything's fine. It has to be."

"Gladio is wrong," Ignis responds sharply. "You are not me. You cannot do what I do, because what I do will not work for you. Losing my eyesight cannot be compared to your loss, Noct."

"I didn't lose anything," Noct protests, and he closes his eyes, trying to make himself believe it. "I'm still here, aren't I? I still remember, and I'm still breathing, and I can still see. I still have everything."

"I can't pretend I understand," Ignis says quietly. "And I can't pretend to know what you're going through. But you know as I do that that isn't true. Lady Lunafreya is gone. Lord Ravus— your brother is gone. You've lost. You've lost."

He's lost. What does that even mean, at this point— Noct has lost them, Luna and Ravus, his last links to everything Noct couldn't have, or he's lost, confused and not finding the right path, or he's just lost, lost this game he and Ardyn Izunia are playing because he's never known the rules to begin with.)

("Ravus, he…" Noct's deliberately not thought about him, but he can't just ignore it forever. It's so easy to pretend that there's nothing wrong, that Ravus is just being the asshole he's always been, still with the empire. But he was helping civilians evacuate, Prompto tells him. And now he's dead. He's gone. As quick as that, as sudden as that, he will never see Ravus again.

"I never should have told him," Noct says. He never should have told Ravus about him and Luna. Maybe he'd still be alive.

What scares him more is the sort of easy acceptance of it all. Noct doesn't try to deny it. Ravus is never coming back. It's like— it's like it's happened so often, Noct can do nothing but accept. The world takes and takes, and Noct had tried to pull back, but now he opens his arms to make it easier, and maybe it will hurt less.)

He doesn't know how they're in there, inside that small, cramped compartment. It feels like minutes. It feels like seconds. It feels like hours. But eventually, Noct's eyes begin to droop and he stifles a yawn. He doesn't know how, but Ignis seems to catch on.

With a gentle force, Ignis pushes him down onto the mattress. "Rest, Noct," He says in his own considerate way. "We will start again tomorrow, or whenever you're ready. But for now, in this hour, close your eyes."

Sometimes, when they were children, Ignis would be the one to tuck him into bed when his father was too busy, and his wet nurse otherwise occupied. He'd read a few stories, entertain Noct. Sometimes he'd asleep before Noct on accident, and Noct would wiggle over to side, leave some space for Ignis and they would sleep together.

Noct wants that back.

Instead, he grabs Ignis' hand. "I don't know if I'm ever going to be ready," He says in a small voice.

"Then what do you want to do, Noct?"

Noct swallows hard, and he has no idea how to answer that. A wave of homesickness crashes upon him, and he thinks, just a year ago, they were all living happily in Insomnia, going about their lives, the war far and distant. A year ago, he was sitting at home. A year ago, she was still in Tenebrae, performing her duties, living her life.

"I want to go home," Noct ends up saying plaintively. He wants to see his apartment again, play a few video games, go to his part time job. He wants to go back to Tenebrae and never leave, hide himself in the manor and the gardens and never come out. But he can't. Insomnia is long gone, and he can't stay in Tenebrae, not as Noct. He has no right.

He wants to see his father again. He wants to see his mother again. He wants to see Ravus again. He doesn't want to keep going. He's not sure he can.

He wants things to go back to the way they were. But they never will. They're on a speeding train, and they're already in the dark tunnel. There is no stopping this. The only thing Noct can hope for is that they'll get through alive.

Ignis strokes his hair, and Noct realizes that his hands are slightly shaky. He's probably a lot more scared than he's letting on, Noct thinks, and he just feels worse again.

"Just sleep, Noct."

Sleep.

He's not sure what he dreams of.

It's twilight, in the waking dawn or setting sun, Noct doesn't know, slipping between reality and imagination, the fantastical and dull.

In silence of the night, in the scorching heat of the mid-afternoon, he finds Gladio.

His eyes, reflected in the light at an odd angle, unnaturally bright in the still darkness, are almost golden. He doesn't say anything, and he doesn't need to.

In the haze, Noct reaches out to him.

Gladio, he chants. Gladio, Gladio, Gladio. Don't leave me behind.

He takes Noct's hand. He kneels down low, kisses it.

I would never, he says, and then Noct is lost again in slumber.

(By morning, he realizes that it might not have been a dream after all.)

Gladio likes waffles.

Noct pauses, then realizes that he doesn't have waffles. As a matter a fact, there's really no point in thinking about waffles at all. Why is he thinking about waffles?

There's dim light pulsing through the curtain, and everyone still appears to be asleep. Then Noct realizes that he's on the wrong bed. On the upper bunks lay Ignis and Prompto (who thought it would be a good idea to give the blind man the upper bed) so this must be—

He's not here.

Noct slips into his well-worn boots, silently pulling open the compartment doors, looks up and down the hallway. He wanders into the dining car, then out into the station.

He finds Gladio near the elevator that goes down into the quarry. He's looking down beyond the railing.

"Hey," Gladio says, without turning around. "So you're up."

Without fanfare, Noct tells him quietly, "I was there when your dad died."

To that, he turns, surprised. "It was Glauca. He had already been hit before I managed to get to the throne room. He was lying near the wall. I couldn't tell whether he was still breathing or not."

Gladio blinks rapidly, then sighs and shakes his head. "You were there, huh."

"I had to leave him behind," Noct says distantly. The same way he had left Ravus grasping his arm on floor, left Luna on the altar. "I hope you don't blame me for it."

Gladio leads him closer and closer. "Of course I don't blame you. Astrals, Noct, I'm sorry alright? What I said on the way here— I didn't mean it. I was just frustrated, and being an ass."

The corners of his lips twitch up. "I know that," Noct says, and his hands wander over to Gladio's hips, to his back. "And I'm sorry that I yelled at you too. I don't think either of us were really mad at each other. It's just— been tiring, is all. Also, Iggy roasted you pretty hard, and that's punishment in its own right."

All of yesterday had been terrible. Last night was especially horrible.. Noct can still feel the clenching feeling in his gut, but somehow the early morning sun and idyllic silence and low chatter of the station have quieted the feeling somewhat.

He still doesn't know what he wants to do. You're lost, Ignis had said. But he can't go back. He's already made his decision, and there is no other choice anymore.

Gladio doesn't really have anything to say in response, and for a while they're both content to lean into each other, until Noct asks quietly, "Did you really kiss my hand last night?"

"Yeah."

"You're such a sap."

"And you're a baby," Gladio replies fondly.

"You're not allowed to use that line anymore; I am literally older than you." Noct says snappishly. "Also, I'm really craving waffles."

They enter the quarry, and the moment they reach the first group of Gurangatch, Noct realizes something is wrong.

They haven't fought in weeks, and all of them gather around Ignis, because they're rusty anyways and they don't want him to get hurt.

Prompto raises his gun. Gladio hefts his greatsword. Ignis pulls out his daggers.

But Noct, Noct, Noct materializes his blade, and quick as flash, he warp strikes to the first creature. It's downed in seconds, and he switches to a lance when the next one slips through the murky water, towards him.

His Armiger builds in no time, and before long he's just attacking furiously, flitting around the battlefield in flashes of blue. It's soon over and done, and both Gladio and Prompto look to him with expressions of shock and surprise.

"Woah, Noct, I think you took out like, more than half of them," Prompto says, sounding impressed.

"That's probably the best I've ever seen you fight," Gladio comments, and Noct laughs helplessly.

"Is it always like this?" He wonders aloud, and the adrenaline is still pulsing through him. He lets out a few more giggles. "For you guys, I mean."

"What do you mean?" Ignis asks.

"Is it always so easy?" Noct says, and he really doesn't want to break down again. His eyes are sparkling from mirth (or is he crying again, he doesn't know). "I didn't know it was supposed to be so easy. Why is it so easy? It's not fair. It was so much easier and better. Is this what it's supposed to be like?"

He can aim more accurately, he can think faster, he can hit harder. He doesn't need to try and push out unnecessary details, and he doesn't need to hyperfocus on two things at once.

"I thought it was harder than this," Noct repeats aimlessly, and his entire body shakes, his voice choked up from laughing. "I genuinely, genuinely thought it was harder."

It's so right, righter than it's ever been, and for that it must be wrong. He realizes how much more comfortable and natural it is to take longer strides, adjust his gait. He starts to change how he runs. They're all small things, but the differences leave him unbalanced and stumbling.

He spends too long looking around himself, looking at the way the sun catches on the water, because Luna sees differently. Noct notices too many details, misses the fluctuations of color in the waters and flora. Knowing all of this, feeling all of this, is almost too much.

They get to the Royal Tomb, defeat the Malboro, and leave as fast as they can.

"Are you feeling better?" Ignis asks Noct when they reboard the train, who shrugs in response. "There's something you ought to know." He informs Noct of the shortening days and longer nights. There's only the slightest pause when he mentions how the process has been speeding up ever since Luna's passing.

"And no one knows what's causing it?"

"No," Ignis confirms, and then, "I had assumed that you would have known, considering your communication with the Six."

The gods really did tell you nothing at all, Lady Lunafreya, Ardyn taunts him, and Noct flinches. "No," He says shortly, and with more ice than is appropriate, he adds, "I don't know shit."

Almost as if it's a warning, the ring in his pocket presses into his leg. The Crystal, the ring, the gods. The covenant. Ardyn Izunia.

"I never told you, did I," Noct says. "How I— how she died."

"I was told that the chancellor intervened halfway through the trial. Was I misinformed?" Ignis asks cautiously.

"Oh it was the chancellor alright," Noct mutters. His hands shake. "It just— it's a lot more complicated than that. I— Luna was always going to die. It was the price for the covenant. Agh, that's not the point. Ardyn let me— let Luna through to meet the Archaean. He knew, too, that I was Luna, and I still don't get how. I thought he wanted me to— I don't know, I thought he was letting me meet with all of them. But then he just," Noct mimes a stabbing motion, and winces as he realizes, once again, that his little performance meets no audience. "Yeah."

"You were going to die," Ignis repeats flatly, stuck on the first few sentences of Noct's scrambled explanation. "No matter what?"

"Not the point I'm trying to make right now, Iggy."

He sighs and shakes his head. "We'll discuss that at a later date. For now, the chancellor. His motives are unknown, and we can most definitely cross off any notion of him being an ally. Any sight of him, and we immediately alert each other. Understand?"

"... Yeah."

"Now that the Oracle is gone," Ignis starts the new subject delicately. "Do you know of the situation with the remaining Astrals?"

Noct frowns, and this is what doesn't make sense. Ardyn had wanted Luna to awaken the Six, so why had he killed her before she had finished doing so? Was there something different with the remaining three Astrals?

Think, Noct. Think, think, think. Maybe he was aiming for something else. No, no, there was no other reason to allow Luna into the Disc of Cauthess. What is it, what is it—

"Oh," Noct blinks rapidly in surprise. "I get it now."

"What?"

"The last three— Ifrit, Shiva, and Bahamut," Noct elaborates, "They're sort of special cases. Ifrit, I probably won't be able to form a pact with for obvious reasons. And unlike the others, Shiva and Bahamut aren't necessarily slumbering. I think Gentiana's always implied that they're taking an active role in shaping events, although no one really knows what and no one knows where. But it's the Draconian, the leader of the Six, and the Glacian, who's known for her compassion towards humans. They don't need the Oracle to convince them to do anything, because they already know it's necessary.

"The king of the prophecy just… didn't need the Oracle anymore, so he killed her." Noct finishes with horrible certainty. (Even more so than that, Luna was an active threat. Noct hasn't forgotten the way Ardyn had reacted to her touch, as if it would destroy him.)

Gladio comes striding in, then leaves quickly, taking Ignis with him. Something about questioning some passengers, and Noct is left alone.

He finds himself strangely enraptured by the passing landscape. The lands of Niflheim seem to hold their own majesty, bleak and expansive. He's seen all this before, on his way to Altissia, but the sand and the snow of the jagged cliffs are just as bold and imposing as they were the first time. The lighting is odd, though. It's early afternoon, and yet the sun is already setting. This must have been what Ignis had meant. The falling light sets a hazy glow onto the mountaintops, the sand sticking to the windowpane.

This is the end of days.

Someone touches his shoulder. "Hey," Prompto says. "Isn't that a sight?" He takes a seat next to Noct. "I've always wondered how that was even possible."

Vaguely amused, Noct turns to him. "Isn't this your cue to start taking pictures like a maniac?"

Only for some reason, Prompto doesn't take out his camera. When Noct looks at him, he realizes that the aforementioned device on him.

Prompto looks at him fondly, but somehow Noct can't help but think something is off. "Oh, Noct, that's hilarious." He laughs, and adds, "I can call you Noct, right?"

"What?" Prompto's been calling him that for years, everyone calls him that. "Prompto, stop messing around."

"I'm not messing around, Noct," Prompto tells him earnestly. "It's just that you're such a fool." And that's definitely something Prompto would never say.

Slowly, Noct turns around. "Who are you?" What the hell is going on?

"Wrong question," Prompto grins, and he puts his hands in his pockets. It's such a familiar action, but Prompto's back is too straight and his smile is too loose. There's just something off, and Noct narrows his eyes. "You haven't figured it out yet?"

The way he speaks sounds wrong. It's passable, but somehow his enunciations seem different, his words have a bit of an accent, language a little too elevated for Prompto's casual speech.

"The right one to ask is how long I've been here, and how long your little sharpshooter has been missing, my dear."

And Ardyn Izunia laughs at Noct's horrified expression. "You hadn't even noticed, had you?" He keeps Prompto's face, his laughing eyes friendly. "You know, I had been entertaining a thought. I thought, perhaps, I could fool you into thinking that dear Prompto was working for me. But even I am not so cruel as to turn such close friends against one another."

(What a fucking liar.)

Noct realizes with sudden clarity that he can't get out. Prompto— Ardyn sits next to him, blocking the aisleway. Something tells him that he can't beat him in a fight.

"You know, if you had been Lady Lunafreya, you would have been able to know I wasn't him," Ardyn tells him softly. "You could feel it as her, could you not? Just what lies beneath my skin. But you are not the Oracle, my dear," And Prompto's face stretches into a pleased, vindictive smile that Noct can't understand. "You were never her, and you were never Noct either."

And what the hell is that supposed to mean? Heart beating fast, Noct looks at his murderer and, eyes flashing, and then—

A loud boom shakes the entire train, and Noct jerks in surprise. Someone screams. Outside, somehow, (how?) imperial airships have appeared. Shock troopers line the tracks. It's obvious that their aim is to destroy the train.

"You would attack your own citizens just to kill me?" Noct hisses at Ardyn. He's absolutely terrified, and he's gotten used to masking that fear as rage. "You fucking coward, I'm right here!"

Then Ardyn snaps his fingers, and the world freezes. The passengers are unmoving. Color is swallowed. It's like they're in a vacuum of nothing.

"Make no mistake, my dear," Ardyn tuts, and Prompto's eyes narrow. "The reinforcements are not my attempts to kill you. Rather, they are a threat. You have two choices. Come with me, and I shall return Prompto to you. Try to save the train, and I cannot guarantee his safety."

He holds out his hand, an invitation. But Noct knows the implications of whatever he chooses. He goes with Ardyn, and Prompto may be saved. His word doesn't mean much, but still, it's something. Everyone on this train dies. He defends the train, and the civilians will be saved, but Prompto…

"Why are you doing this?" Noct asks him helplessly.

"Oh, this one is for my personal enjoyment," Ardyn replies, amused. "I just love seeing you struggle, my dear. Well, that is besides the point. What is your answer?"

Noct hesitates, then hesitates some more, but they both already know what he will say.

Noct is not a cruel person. He has never thought of himself sadistic, or irrational. Prompto, or civilians? These people may not be his own, not his to protect, but still. It's his responsibility as a king and a person, isn't it? These civilians, who've done nothing wrong, will not die because of him. Or Prompto, the kindest, a cheerful soul, who's done so much for him and others and one of his best friends. He wouldn't trade him for the world. His best friend, or civilians? His personal responsibilities, or his royal duties?

Everything around them is still suspended in time. Prompto looks at him tauntingly, asking him, are you really willing to sacrifice me? I, who have done so much to help you?

Noct closes his eyes.

He's left so many people behind.

"I will protect this train." He replies finally, the words laying heavy on his tongue. "You won't harm any of them."

(He's left so many behind. What's one more?)

Ardyn tilts his head. He smiles, an odd light in his eye. In an instant, time restarts and color returns. The chaos around them resumes, and Noct bolts to the exit, warp striking to the nearest MT, fumbling with his phone as he tries to call Ignis and Gladio. But Ardyn's last words echo and rebound in his head.

I'm not, he thinks fiercely, and it sounds weak even in his mind. It's not true.

"Oh, my dear," Ardyn says. "I had never thought you so cruel."

And then they're in Tenebrae.

Through no small amount of luck, the battered train screeches into the station, night already set.

Tenebrae.

Ignis and Gladio had managed to get the train running before it had been completely destroyed, but not long after, night had crept in, and Noct had been forced to fight off the encroaching daemons.

But it's fine now. They're in Tenebrae. All the civilians are unloaded, taking refuge at the station for the night. Most have food with them. Noct sees children, mostly unhurt, sobbing quietly while their parents try to comfort them with meaningless words and phrases.

But it's Tenebrae.

"Noct!" Gladio is running towards him, his expression openly panicked. He places his hands on Noct's shoulders, grounding him there. "You ok?"

"Yeah," Noct whispers. "Just— Just let me—" He takes deep breaths. "The passengers are all ok?"

"A few are injured, but no one's dead," Gladio confirms, and watches Noct closely.

A beat, then, "I can't believe I left Prompto behind," Noct whispers. "What was I thinking?"

"You did the right thing," Gladio assures him, and somehow his words sound far more comforting than Noct's own. "No one wanted this, Noct. You made the best out of a bad situation. We couldn't have been sure that he would have given back Prompto either way."

Then he flinches. "Holy shit, I think I accidentally just left Iggy by himself. Come on, let's regroup."

They find Ignis conversing with a familiar face at the other side of the station. "Hey, pretty boy," Aranea Highwind greets, tossing her head. "Specs here updated me on the situation. I'll take these civilians off your hands."

"But aren't you—"

"Defected. I'm a freelancer now. Consider this a favor; you all owe me one."

She guides them to her subordinates, Biggs and Wedge, who she guarantees can get them to Gralea. "Gonna have to wait while we replace the damaged compartments though," Wedge says, and Biggs adds, "And get ready for some mighty cold temperatures while we pass through Ghorovas Rift."

And then they're left to their own devices. Noct takes another deep breath, looks around warily.

The elegant, medieval, architecture of Tenebrae surrounds him. In the dim light, he can't see much. But he doesn't need to see, he knows what it looks like. He knows how to reach the nearest tavern. He knows where the best food is. He knows the layout of the roads like the back of his hand. He knows— He knows how to go home.

His legs take him down the path, past all the crowds of people, some crying, some carrying all their belongings with them, some simply just there, standing.

"If only Lady Lunafreya was still alive…"

"What will happen to us now?"

"My sister lives in Accordo, maybe we ought to move in with her for a while…"

Noct leads Ignis and Gladio over bridges, lit up and somber, past fields and arches, until they're standing at the entrance of Fenestala Manor, the ancient house of the Oracle line. He knows that it had been badly damaged; the smoke could be seen from the train station. Niflheim forces had bombed it in response to the mutiny of the Tenebraean high commander. Up close, he can smell the fire.

Gladio shifts slightly. "Is this…"

"Where she lived." A old voice answers, and they all turn around.

"Greetings, Prince Noctis," The old woman bobs her head at him, and Noct realizes that it's Maria, one of the retainers House Fleuret. "It is good to see you in good health. Last we met, you were such a sickly child."

And there's such a strong urge to respond in kind, with the same gentle tone and dialect as Maria, but Noct swallows whatever words Luna wants to say. He could tell her, he really could. But what good would it do? Noct can't be her. He can't pretend to be something's he's not. He's not the Oracle. The last time he was in Tenebrae, he was eight years old and couldn't walk. He's not even a woman, for Astral's sake. He's not her.

So instead, he feigns a polite smile, the one he wears to political dinners that he's forced to attend every few months. "I'm sorry, have we met before?"

"Oh, you wouldn't remember me," Maria waves her hand dismissively. "But I have worked for House Fleuret my entire life, and there are things that must be said."

Noct frowns, confused. What could she have to tell a foreign prince?

Maria takes a deep breath. "Lady Lunafreya," The words come out in a rush. "You were there, were you not, at the altar? Tell me, at the very least, whether she succeeded in giving the ring to you."

Noct closes his eyes. He doesn't want to talk about this right now, of all things. "... Yes."

"Good," Maria sighs, shifts. "Oh, my Lady… She was always good to us, you know."

Noct doesn't answer.

"She was so happy," Maria continues tearfully. "The day her wedding dress arrived— I will never forget the expression on her face when she tried it on for the first time."

"Really?" Asks Noct hollowly.

"Oh, yes," The retainer nods her head. "She was so dreadfully excited. Lady Lunafreya had such a passionate desire to meet you, Prince Noctis. She…" And Maria leans in closer, glancing around to make sure no one is else is around. "You shan't tell anyone about this, understand? Right before she left for Altissia, Lady Lunafreya had a massive spat with Lord Ravus."

Noct's breath catches in surprise. He hadn't realized that the servants had overheard their fight. Seeing his shock, she adds, "We didn't dare listen in on all of it, of course, but their shouting was quite loud. But the fact of the matter is— well, at some point, both of them had started to cry."

And Maria looks so eager for him to understand, but Noct isn't getting it yet. "We heard her say, 'Why can't I see him?' Over and over again. She was inconsolable. Don't you see it? She loved you, Prince Noctis."

"Oh," Noct whispers, and Ignis and Gladio shift uncomfortably beside him. It's not hard to figure out who it was really meant for. "I… see."

"So?" Maria presses. "You loved her back, didn't you? That is why you came here, to pay your respects."

It's such a laughable question, but the tears well up anyway, and Noct thinks to himself, did I love her? Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, did I love her?

What a silly, silly question.

"Yes," He replies, choked back in tears. "Yes, I did."

She tells them Pryna is dead. Gentiana is missing.

Noct doesn't know what to do with that knowledge, because Gentiana? Pryna? Her messengers, just, gone. Umbra is still here, coming and going, not tied to Noct the way he was to her. But the other two...

It's as if the universe takes them away, saying, you're not allowed to have this anymore, you can't have this anymore because she's dead, and you can't take her place.

(Is that why they took Prompto too?)

"Now with both Lord Ravus and Lady Lunafreya gone, Tenebrae will most likely fall to ruin," Maria says, and her voice is resigned. "People will move away, with the ruling family dead. The land of the Oracle is no more."

"No," Noct snaps. Of all things, that can't happen. That absolutely must not happen. He's tried so hard— Tenebrae has struggled its way through imperial rule for over a decade, so much of her time and effort was spent on this land, her land, her kingdom. "I won't let that happen. I promise you, Maria, that I won't let Tenebrae be forgotten. I will use all my power to restore this place to its former glory."

Then he realizes that it's perhaps a bit too passionate for someone from a foreign country, and he adds weakly, "For her." He hangs his head, hoping it passes as sorrow.

"Prince Noctis," And Maria looks astounded, her eyes welling up with tears again, bowing at him. "You are far too noble. To think your love would drive you so far to even save a kingdom from ruin."

Her remarks leave Noct somewhere between bemused and uncomfortable, yet every mention of her, so close to home, just hits harder.

It's almost of when she had gone to Insomnia for the first time. He keeps expecting everything to be the same as it always was, but her home charred, smoking, Gentiana and Pryna, her brother, the spreading darkness— it's all too alien and unfamiliar.

But Maria is so impressed with them she offers to show them Lady Lunafreya's room. According to her, that particular section of the manor hadn't been damaged. She leads them to the servant's entrance at the side, up spiralling staircases, the smell of smoke getting stronger and stronger, yet not overly pungent. It's still a ways away.

Then he's standing in front of a familiar set of doors, and Maria stands to the side, letting him open it. "I shall wait outside. I am sure you wish to would like to look around alone."

"Actually," Noct hedges uncomfortably. "Gladio, Ignis, can you come with me?"

The room is large, not unlike the bedroom Noct has in the Citadel. In the darkness, the garden outside can't be clearly seen, and the birds, probably having long since fled from the attack, are silent. The floor is smooth marble. The bed is large, at the side. Rows of bookshelves line the adjacent wall. The air smells like flowers. This, at the very least, is the same.

He walks to her desk and writing stationery, mechanical pencils and quills scatter the surface. Noct knows there's gel pens in one of the drawers. The gold one is out of ink.

"Is that…?" Gladio asks, and he points at some framed pictures in the corner. One of them shows the Fleuret family, Queen Sylva and her two children, young Ravus and Luna. How old had she been, Noct's forgotten. The other, which Noct suspects Gladio is pointing to, is a familiar one. It's a copy of one of Prompto's photos from a few years back, depicting candid shot of Noct and Gladio. He still doesn't know how he had managed to take it without them noticing.

Prompto. Noct swallows thickly.

"Yeah," He says in response to Gladio's question. "I thought it was a nice shot." He quickly looks away, and he's never felt the absence of the blond more.

And then all of a sudden, the aching familiarity of everything around them, the sentimental feeling in the air, is too much for Noct. He has too much to mourn, and not enough time. They'll be setting out next morning, or whenever Biggs and Wedge finish preparations. He can't stay here, in the room for the dead.

With a grunt, he pushes the desk to the side. Behind it lies a hidden compartment, which he opens with little care. The answer to not thinking, in his opinion, is alcohol. There's a lot of alcohol in here. It's the culmination of years of slowly sneaking all the highest quality wines from the basement of the manor. She had done it partly out of curiosity, if she could have gotten away with it, partly out of spite, partly just because she really, really wanted it.

He grabs the nearest bottle, then vanishes it into his inventory. Behind him, Gladio makes an odd choking sound. "Are you… stealing wine?"

"It's not stealing if it already belonged to you," Noct mutters, and he takes two more. Recklessly, he thinks, what's one more? And so he reaches out to the next bottle.

"Noct, what precisely are you trying to achieve by taking such a large amount of alcohol?" Ignis asks him cautiously.

"Isn't it obvious?" Noct turns around, and somehow, it feels like the most ridiculous thing he's done in a long time. He's stealing wine from himself. Alternatively, he's stealing wine from the the deceased love of his life. He doesn't care; he needs this. "We're going to drink it."

Yes.

And that's what he does.

Within in hour, everything is hazy. Noct's not quite sure what's happening, but, well, that's probably fine. Everything's fine.

"Biology," He mumbles, and he crawls over to where Gladio is. He's very drunk. Ignis is similarly wasted. Gladio is not. As a matter a fact, he is very, very sober, and Noct needs to fix that. He tries to hand Gladio the bottle, but he thinks it might've just been his shoe.

"Biology?" Gladio asks him, his eyes patient and bemused.

"Biology," Noctis agrees, and fiddles with Gladio's hair. "It's a life science. How to farm children."

"Alright." Gladio agrees easily enough. "Sure. Biology teaches you how to farm children."

"Sex education is useful," Noct mumbles. "They need to teach it before middle school. Gonna have to fix that." Everything's slightly fuzzy, and his mind wanders, and then a thought occurs to him, and he snaps straight up. He pokes Gladio insistently, who is now looking somewhat alarmed.

"Hey Gladdy," He slurs. "If I married Luna and we had kids, would that be having sex or masturbation?"

"Holy fuck," Gladio groans. "Noct, you're drunk off your ass. Keep this up, and Ignis is going to implode."

"I have an aneurysm," Ignis speaks up pleasantly, and proceeds to stand up and trip over his own feet.

"I'd be fucking myself," Noct says thoughtfully, and then he giggles. "Does that count as infidelity, Gladiooooo? I know you don't believe in infidelity. I don't believe in infidelity either. Is masturbation infidelity?"

"... And now you're going to bed." Gladio actually picks him up from the ground, and Noct puts his arms around his him so he can pretend Gladio is bridal carrying him to somewhere other than dreamland.

"Let's go to my wedding," Noct says. "They tell me it's in Altissia. I have to marry myself for the peace treaty to go through. I'm gonna have kids."

"I fucking pity your children."

"My children…" Noct narrows his eyes, and then, "I am my children."

"What."

"It's biology," Noct says, because children through masturbation is basically asexual reproduction, and he knows this stuff. If a child gets half of their genetic material from their mother and the other half through their father, and Noct and Luna are the same person, then he is his own child. It's the only answer.

He doesn't realize he's said all this out loud until Gladio drops him onto a mattress, a little harder than he needs. "You are intolerable," He tells Gladio. "In-tolahhhrable. My wife loves you too. So does my kid. I'm all of them, did you know?"

Gladio looks awfully pained, and Noct wonders why.

"I never noticed," He says, ignoring Noct's question. "But you sound a bit like she must've sounded like when you're wasted. It's the accent."

Noct struggles to understand, but he doesn't get it. He stares at him blankly.

Gladio sighs. "She sounded wonderful," He tells Noct. "I wish I could've met her. I see all these people, all mourning for her, for you, and I think—" He cuts himself off, shaking his head. "I don't know what to think.

"She had the same books you keep in your flat. I saw all that rock music you stuffed into those shelves. I wouldn't be surprised if you managed to get electronics to work. You even kept a photo of us. Astrals, I just— I just—" Gladio shakes his head, and Noct can only continue staring. Everything is foggy, and it's hard to concentrate.

"It's my job to fucking protect you," Gladio says, aggrieved. "And I take my duty seriously. Maybe I didn't know, maybe I wasn't supposed to know. So what? I still failed, didn't I? And I made you cry, and now Prompto's kidnapped. But you—"

Gladio takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry that you're dead," He says finally. "And I'm sorry that I couldn't do anything about it. It was an inexcusable blunder on my part." He gives a little snort. "You don't even get what I'm saying, do you? Probably for the best. Me and Ignis'll keep it together for you. Don't worry about us, Noct, you've got plenty of other things on your plate."

At this point, Gladio is just blabbering nonsense, and Noct's tired of listening to whatever he's saying. He's awfully sleepy too. He might as well close his eyes for a bit too.

The next thing he realizes, there's an awfully bright light shining in his face, and Noct smashes a pillow to his face and gives a muffled scream.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," Gladio says cheerfully. "It's 3 in the afternoon, and we're about to leave. Get your pretty ass out of bed."

"Five more hours," Noct mutters, and rolls over. His head is killing him. He also can't remember anything that had happened last night. "I'm never going to drink again."

"You say that every time," Gladio says, unconcerned. In a swift move, he's stolen Noct's blankets and pillow. "Get moving; we've got to get to Gralea."

Gralea? Noct blinks blearily, stumbling to his feet unsteadily, until he finally remembers where he is and why he is, and once again, a heavy weight crashes down upon him.

Gladio helps him out of the sleeping car, back out into the train station. Before Noct steps into the train, he looks back one more time.

It's dim, alarmingly so. In the distance, the manor is still smoking. The sky is a dull red. There are still crowds of refugees all over.

I'll be back, Noct promises no one, and he turns his back to it all.

Ghorovas Rift is freezing. They realize this too late, and when daemons begin to attack the train once again, they struggle to move in the frigid air. The fight is long and hard, and Prompto's absence is felt keenly. In the distance, Shiva's corpse stares at nothing. The wind howls.

The Deathclaw is an absolute terror. Afterward, Noct and the others are still gasping for breath. Somehow, even in this cold, he realizes that he's sweating.

Twisting his head, he looks at the Glacian once again. It just feels wrong, to see an Astral just lying there, lifeless.

"You have a choice," Ignis says softly. "Trek to the Glacian's corpse, seek the covenant. Or, head directly to the imperial capital."

"No," Noct says. "I don't have a choice. Gralea is our only option, Ignis. I'm not leaving Prompto there for any second longer than I have to." (What if he's already gone, he doesn't say, because he can't believe that.) Besides, the Glacian is, in a sense, dead. Without the Oracle, how is he ever supposed awaken her, much less receive her mark?

But he stands there longer than he should, staring at the colossal body, while Ignis and Gladio reboard the train. Finally, because he can't quite shake off the feeling that he should do something, he hums the song of the stars, the one she had used commune with the other Astrals.

The melody is weak and faltering, and nothing happens.

(Is it surprising that, for a second, he had really thought it would work?)

When he steps back into the compartment coach though, something is wrong.

A swish of clothing, and Noct sees a familiar scarf flutter around a corner, and he stops breathing. That's the way Ignis and Gladio—

Noct flings open the door, and an icy blast buffets him, snow swings in his face, harder and fiercer than outside.

"Ardyn!" He yells over the howling of the storm, and how is it even here? What is the chancellor doing? "Don't touch them! Where is Prompto?"

The chancellor, for it is indeed the chancellor, no longer wearing anyone's face but his own, gestures behind him, where Noct can see the fallen bodies of Ignis and Gladio.

"Don't fret, my dear, they are not dead," Ardyn says. "Just taking a small nap."

Shivering, Noct takes one step forward at a time. The wind pushes him backwards, the cold presses him away, and his legs threaten to buckle.

When Luna is eight years old, she sees snow for the first time. It's not a lot, less than an inch, she learns later, because snow in Tenebrae is not common. But during that short, fleeting time, she drags Ravus out with her to shriek and laugh as the cold little dots of white begin to cover up the ground. It's so cold, she thinks in fascination.

When (Luna-as-) Noct is eight years old, he is surrounded by flames and inching closer and closer to the line between life and death.

It's so cold, he thinks despairingly.

When Noct is twenty years old, she's already dead and it's cold, so cold. Ardyn stands, seemingly unaffected by the howling wind and the unnatural chill— the frost creeping up the seats, the snow blowing in their faces.

Past Ardyn, the sound of footsteps are suddenly heard, and Noct realizes that this storm isn't coming from the chancellor— but rather, behind him.

"A coldness that can only be hers," Ardyn comments, and Noct gasps and shudders. The Glacian. The Glacian. The Glacian.

The covenant— is she here for the covenant— the Glacian, the Glacian, Shiva, the Glacian. Only that's not— that's not—

Only it's Gentiana, walking down the aisle in steady, measured steps. Gentiana, who no one has seen since Altissia. Gentiana, who Noct had thought dead.

"It's been quite some time," Ardyn greets her, as if they've known each other for quite some while. Only how could Gentiana have ever, ever, ever have met him, and where has she been all this time— "And you wear the same face, still."

Only Gentiana doesn't deign to respond, and with a simple touch to his lips— an ever gentle reminder to hush— the ice has encased him.

Ice— ice— ice and cold and Messengers and Astrals and—

"You're the Glacian," Noct gasps through his chattering teeth. "Gentiana, you're—"

And Gentiana walks towards him, and she smiles, the same mysterious smile she always gives. Only her features morph and change and her skin blue and her hair white but her smile, the same, always the same.

Well met, Oracle, says Shiva, and Luna's trident materializes in her hands.

"Y-You never told me," Noct whispers. "You never told me anything." Everything has been happening so fast, leaving him no time to process, and he's left more and more bewildered. But it's Shiva, and she's known. Maybe all the Astrals have known. They know everything. He still knows nothing. He's cold.

Shiva can see the despair in his eyes, but she merely holds the trident up to him. It was always yours, O King of Kings, she tells him, and somehow, despite everything, there is affection in her voice. All will be clear in time.

Gentiana has been with him his whole life, a constant companion through all that Luna has ever done, and now Shiva looks down at him with empty promises and a smile, and Noct takes the familiar weight of the trident of the Oracle and holds back tears as the wind quiets and the snow settles.

"Did you even care?" He asks her, and for moment she's not the Glacian, not even a Messenger, she's just someone who Luna's cared for, because she's always been there. "Knowing that I— that she was going to be gone, did it even matter to you?"

She tips her head at him, cups his face with her freezing hands, placing a light kiss on his forehead. But she doesn't answer him.

Bring back the light, she tells him instead, and then even quieter, Fix our mistakes.

And then she is gone, leaving Noct with his trident. It's like she was never there to begin with.

It's so cold.

Noct slumps to the ground, still shaking. He reaches for Ignis and Gladio. "Hey," He gasps. "Get up."

They do so with a groan, Gladio shaking himself as he staggers upright, and Ignis taking a moment to reorient himself as best he can.

"The hell happened?" Gladio mutters, and then he catches sight of their surroundings. "Wait, is that…?"

"What?" Ignis asks.

"An ice sculpture with a remarkable resemblance to the chancellor," Noct agrees, his voice still shaking, and stands up as well, albeit with some difficulty. "The Glacian was here for a bit." Stumbling a little, he lurches forward, and with a viciousness he doesn't quite feel, he impales Ardyn with the trident. The ice shatters into nothingness, and Noct drops his weapon.

"Is he dead?"

"Not sure," Noct replies honestly. There's definitely nothing where Aryn had stood anymore, but something tells him that it won't be that easy. "Let's just—"

"You know, that hurt," A voice calls behind them, and Ardyn Izunia stands there, perfectly unharmed, posed in mock pain. "And what did I ever do to deserve such a cold welcome?"

Gladio growls, tries to step forward. Noct grabs his arm and holds him back.

"I could have died," Ardyn continues. "And whatever would have happened then?" Whistling cheerfully, he takes out a familiar gun from underneath his coat. It's Prompto's Death Penalty. "How would you have ever gotten your dear Prompto back?

"And then I remembered that I'm immortal." And he finally steps towards them, twirling the pistol in his hand. "So hello, my dear, perhaps we can finally chat a little without interruptions."

"There's only one thing I've ever wanted to know," Noct says, gripping Gladio's arm even tighter. His other hand finds Ignis. "What do you want? What have you ever wanted? Why are you doing this?"

"And that's the problem, you see," Ardyn hums. "You were always meant to know. I had always thought you knew. The fact that you don't is so amusing, I'm not sure I want to spoil the surprise.

"In any case, the train ought to be reaching Gralea soon. You've received yet another Royal Arm," His eyes flicker to the trident lying on the ground. "And at the capital, perhaps you will find all you are looking for. Prompto, the Crystal. Your right to the throne. Answers. And you will most definitely find me," He tosses the gun to Noct and turns away. "I'll be sure to grant you a warm welcome."

They let him leave, because Noct knows that they can't beat him. If even Gentiana— Shiva's icy breath had done nothing, then he must really immortal. Noct isn't even surprised.

"Perhaps we had ought to check on our conductors," Ignis' suggestion breaks Noct out of his thoughts. "Shall we?"

"You guys go on ahead," Noct says. "I'll be there in a bit."

Once the door slides shut behind them, Noct allows himself to sink back down on the floor. With shaking hands, he picks up the trident and the gun; the trident on the right and the gun on the left, or maybe it's the other way around.

Don't think about it, Noct thinks desperately, but it's no use.

"I'm sorry," Noct whimpers to no one. "I'm sorry."

Prompto, Luna.

"How could I have ever traded either of you?" Noct whispers, because just like that Luna was gone and then again, just like that, Prompto had been taken. What's the last thing he had said to him? Something inane, ordinary. Then— gone.

Fat splotches appear on the floor below him, and Noct makes a wretched noise in the back of his throat.

"I didn't want this," He sobs like a child and clutches weapons of war close to chest, as if they can do something other than kill and kill and kill some more. "It's all my fault and I'm sorry."

As it turns out, Ardyn has surprises for them. Before they even reach the gates of Gralea, the train is overrun with all sorts of daemon infestations. Maybe it would have been alright, only Noct goes to summon his Ultima Blade, but nothing appears in his hand.

He tries again. To his mounting horror, nothing appears again.

"What are you waiting for?" Gladio yells at him, already swinging his own weapon.

"I can't— I can't summon anything!" Noct responds in panic, trying again and again. "Nothing's happening!"

"Then we head down to the far end of the train," Ignis speaks up quickly, already forming a new plan of action. "This train will not make it, not under such a siege. We will have to take the Regalia."

Noct drives, for reasons he doesn't like to think about, It's an absolute hell, with airships aiming at the roads and the gates to the city beginning to close. Slamming on the gas pedal, he pushes through at a breakneck speed, the Regalia skidding past the entrance and almost tipping over.

When they get out, the hood of the car still smoking and the rear view mirrors cracked, the engine unresponsive, Noct can't help but feel a sense of loss. It's just a car, he tells himself fiercely, but it was his father's car, the king's trusty steed. It was his.

His father's car, childhood sentiments, adolescent dreams; his father and the Regalia. Words pour into his head, but they are foreign and make little sense, so Noct pushes them away. He backs up from the wreckage, and each step away is a little easier.

"Let's get going," Gladio says, but his voice is warm and sympathetic, and they don't even get 100 yards before Ardyn's next trap crashes down upon them.

Noct has no words to describe the time after this.

He's not even sure how long it was, and he's never bothered to ask. It's a dark time, strange and twisted into knots and he can't quite unravel its tangle. It's fragmented, in short bursts of memory and convoluted thought, with the only constant being Ardyn, Ardyn, Ardyn.

It's like— it's like being suspended in the air by puppet strings. Noct doesn't know who makes him raise his right arm, only that it does. He doesn't know why he blinks, only that he does. He knows not how he moves at all, only that he does. He has no interest in destination, and he becomes used to it, and thoughts of hope and hopelessness and fear and love are all irrelevant.

He's not sure what order all of it goes.

Noct gasps, pants, finally in a sheltered area where he can rest for just a little while. He knows this isn't going to work. Isolated, with no access to his weapons, there is absolutely no way he's going to survive.

But there's always something else. The ring in his pocket.

But the fact of the matter is— he doesn't want to put it on. This ring, that's seen countless deaths, generation after generation, sapping the strength from his father over the span of decades.

The truth is, everything granted to the kings of Lucis is a death trap. The Armiger, without healing items, can kill Noct in a matter of seconds. The ring is no different— but its effects are longer lasting, slower to come to realization. The Wall, the arcana spells. The Crystal powering it all.

(Maybe— maybe granting them two bodies wasn't a gift. Maybe, like everything else, it was just a curse.)

What would have happened to her, if she had put the ring on, and Ravus and Nyx flicker to his mind.

Well, he has no choice now, does he? Not if he wants to survive. Noct stares at the ring, long and hard, and finally, with fumbling fingers, he puts on the Ring of Lucii.

There's something intensely claustrophobic about the capital. Perhaps it's the narrow corridors, the dim lighting, the low ceilings. But even moreso, the streets lays empty, the entire city eerily silent. Alone, Noct's own thoughts press in on him, surrounding him, muffling common sense and rationality.

Maybe that's why he can't stop seeing Prompto.

There's Prompto right there, only he reaches out and there's no one there, because Prompto's running down the hallway to the left, no, no, that was just a shadow, his mind is playing tricks on him.

(Or maybe Ardyn is playing tricks on him?)

Ardyn taunts him. Ardyn never stops taunting him.

But does it really count as taunting, when all his words ring true? When every syllable, leaving his lips the way poison drips from a cup, tells no lie? What is he to do, try to deny it when he knows in his gut that none of this is a falsity? It's too horrifying to be a lie. It's too real to be a lie.

"You must start thinking to yourself, what am I doing here?" The PA system crackles. "All this struggle, horror, and yet you still persevere. All for what? Your friend Prompto— who knows how long he will hold up? Ignis, poor Ignis, hopefully he hasn't bumbled into some sort of trap. And Gladio, dear Gladio, how long before he turns on you again? You are weak, my dear, and you know he deserves better. He's a better man than you ever could be, and he deserves better.

"They don't need you," Ardyn says in his ear, until he can no longer tell whether it's the chancellor that's saying it or himself. You're wasting your time. You're suffering, you're drowning. And for what? Maybe you should just stop here, because this is hard and painful and you're all alone.

Why do you continue in this game, when it all doesn't matter in the end?

"No," He replies, shakily. "No, you're wrong. It does matter."

No one answers.

"All these daemons, yet not a soul in sight," Ardyn murmurs. "Wherever could they have gone, I wonder. Were they all killed? Not all of them, surely."

What else could it have been, though?

"The Six never told you what the starscourge really did, did they," His voice is acid. "Those who succumb to its hold do not die, and suffer a fate far worse than death.

"How do you think daemons are born, my dear?"

"One thing you've never asked me," Ardyn speaks again. "Is what I am. I'm sure you're curious."

Isn't that the million gil question. He pretends he doesn't hear him, and continues on.

"I am an idea," He announces, as if that makes any sort of sense whatsoever. "I am a set of standards that dictate who I am, what I wear, what I look like. How I speak, how I act, it all depends on what I am. What Ardyn Izunia is. Isn't that such a profound thought? I am, by all means, myself."

There's a shock trooper coming closer. Noct hides behind the corner.

"Are you not the same? You decide what you look like, who you are, how you speak. You're different from Lady Lunafreya because you've decided that Noct will act a certain way, while the late Oracle will act in the other. Noct is an idea you've used to hide yourself, to portray yourself through a filter.

"And now it's my turn to ask you— you, my dear, not Noct. If you are neither Noct nor Luna, just what are you?"

Ardyn's mocking voice digs deep into his chest, and Noct— and they don't have an answer.

Here's the thing.

It doesn't matter that Luna is dead. By all means, she's alive. There is only one soul in question, and it's still alive, isn't it? Maybe it would be better to compare her death to a severe body injury. When all of a sudden, Noct isn't able to move half of his body anymore. The phantom pains, if he could even call it that, are what he can't get past. It hurts.

But here's the thing: it doesn't work like that.

It's complicated, needlessly convoluted, their relationship. Luna had been someone, and Noct is someone else. But at the same time, they are the same. Yet Noct is, and Luna isn't.

Luna dies. If they were truly exactly the same, it wouldn't have hurt. It can't have, because Noct would have been exactly the same, and nothing would have been lost. But Luna was someone else, someone with her own life, and Noct will never get that back.

But they aren't the same. That's why Luna died, because they weren't the same, and she had to die.

How is he allowed to say that they are the same, yet not? He's never thought about it, but now that Luna is gone, he thinks. He thinks, and he thinks, and finally he wonders,

is there a difference between Noct and me?

It's simple. Take a deep breath. It's going to be fine. Noct is fine. Noct is fine. Everything is going to be fine.

What would Noct do in this situation?

You do not cry, not even for her, someone asks. No, that's not Noct. You're not the only hero, someone else says, but that's not Noct either. Dad, I love you, and certainly that's Noct, isn't it?

No, that had been

L

"It's the ultimate failsafe," Ardyn's voice crackles over the PA pleasantly. "The Lucis kings are granted two bodies to reside in, and by extension, two chances to live. If one dies, the other takes over the throne."

They can't concentrate right now, not when they're this close to death and Ardyn's oily voice whispering all of this in their ear. They can't ignore it, they can't pretend he doesn't exist. Why doesn't he ever stop talking? They just want this all to stop.

"But it doesn't make sense," The chancellor feigns confusion as they creep down the corridor. "Since when has that ever happened? I, for one, have never heard a king, in all of Lucis' rich history, dying, then reclaiming their throne with their other self. How would it ever work, as a matter fact? How could the public, unknowing of the Astral's blessings, ever accept a stranger, possibly even a foreigner, with no royal blood to take their king's throne?

"The ultimate failsafe? I think not," And he cackles, leaving them wondering what exactly the chancellor is trying to imply. And he makes a solid point. It's the 'ultimate failsafe—' yet no king has ever used it, because if they had, the public would have known of everything. But there have been 113 kings before them; there has to have been at least one that died as king before they did as the other identity.

But then, Ardyn continues, and their world spins out of axis, and they can't breathe again, they can't—

"I had such a wonderful time these past centuries, tracking down all those second identities of those kings," Ardyn tells him cheerfully. "All of you have a certain trace of the crystal's magic lingering on yourselves, you see. Once you learn how to detect it, it's not hard to track you down.

"Oh, and your father," He continues gleefully. "A man living in Altissia. He ran a cheery little bar. I do believe it's still there. Such a shame that he died in a such a little accident, don't you think?"

"No," They whisper, and a wave of weakness threatens to make them fall to their knees. No, no, no, he can't be saying what they think he's saying. He can't be saying this.

"What do you know of the magitek, my dear?" He asks. "A funny little nickname you've given them. MT. 'Empty.' How… quaint."

Don't respond. There's no one there. Pretend that nothing he says makes sense. It's all nonsense.

"They weren't always like this. Once, like all the daemons around us, they were human. With my help, Niflheim learned how to use daemons to their advantage. Along with this, they developed the magitek; essentially mass-produced, controllable daemons. Brought up in labs, barcoded and numbered, raised to be weapons, yet humans nonetheless. And yet, here they are, dying to the hands of King of the prophecy. Tell me, who is the monster here?"

There was a girl, they remember, that worked as a maid at the manor. They never knew her name. She was very pretty. They liked her.

She moved to Gralea, the maids had said.

Looking at the devastated capital, the remains of all the civilians scattered all over as daemons and MT units, they wonder.

Her pretty red hair, freckles, brown eyes— which of these was her?

She was ever so beautiful.

(And then they killed her)

Ardyn is wrong— no he's right, he's right, he's wrong, they don't know anymore. They don't know anything anymore.

Here is the thing. They are Luna.

When Luna is—

No, no, that isn't right. They are Noct.

When Noct is—

That's also not right. It can't be right.

Because here is the thing. When Luna died, they lived, because Noct survived. Yet if Noct had died instead, they would have still been here, because Luna would be alive. But then, they can't be Luna or Noct, can they, if they still live after he or she dies.

But you're both of them, they try to tell themselves, but that can't be right either. How can you be two people at the same time? They don't feel like two people. If they're both, then why is Luna gone? All of them is still here, but Luna is gone and gone and gone.

Because they've always existed, always, but only through Luna and Noct. But Luna is gone now, they remind themselves yet again, and try as they might, Noct is slipping through their grasp. They were never given an identity, a character. They are formless, compartmentalized into two facades, and now that they are slipping away they've been left to fend for themselves, exposed to the world for the first time.

(A long, long time ago, they called themselves Luna. It was before Noct, before anything had begun. But that time has long since past, and Luna is gone now and they are still here, so they aren't, can't be Luna anymore.)

What is their name? How old are they? Why are they here? Who are they? What are they?

How did father ever manage, they wonder.

Weaponless, nameless, and helpless, they stumble through the corridors of Zegnautus Keep.

What do they care about Prompto anyway, they think bitterly to themselves. What do they care about Gladio, or Ignis, or Ravus or the fate of Lucis, or Tenebrae. It doesn't matter to them. It's not theirs to care about. Something pushes them forward, but they don't know what. They don't want to do this anymore. They're done.

(They're done with this. Who cares about him? Who cares about her? Everything they had ever wanted, ever needed, it doesn't even matter. Their suffering seems so insignificant now, because they had fought long and hard for something they could never have.)

Wait, what? No, this isn't right. They can't just leave Prompto to die here, for Gladio and Ignis to never find them. They care. Don't they?

Zegnautus Keep. The Citadel. Niflheim. Lucis.

Zegnautus Keep. Fenestala Manor. Niflheim. Tenebrae.

A jumble of words and phrases pile in their head, until a giant mound rests in the way between where they are and what they seek. Noctis. Lunafreya. Brother, sister, father, mother, friend. Sword, glaive, covenant, gods, starscourge, crystal, ring, prophecy, star.

Some of these words had belonged to her, some to him, some to both.

Yet none are for them.

Pretend it doesn't exist, then. None of it is for them. No death, no life, no love, no fear, no hope, no hopelessness.

Just them.

They fall.

At the bottom of the bottom, the lowest of the low, they find a body. It's lying right in the middle of the chamber, a familiar sword stabbed into the ground, glinting in the dim light. A metal arm, clearly torn off, is still clasping the hilt.

It's Ravus' arm.

It's Ravus' body.

It's Ravus.

Hello Ravus. Whatever are you thinking, lying on the floor like that? You're going to get your clothes dirty. See, there's already a bit of grime on them. What were you thinking, honestly, wearing white in such a place anyways? Mother's going to be mad at you again. Well, it's alright, at least you aren't dead.

At least you

aren't

de

a

d

Meeting with Ravus is nice. He gives me back my father's sword. He won't come with me, though.

There are so many more levels to climb, and it's tiring. But I'm not afraid, not anymore. I think I was afraid before, and I no longer understand why. Maybe it is hard, but this isn't so bad. Everything looks the same after a while, and this sword is very helpful. I can understand why Ravus would want it now. How very kind of him, to give it back. I think I used to be angry at him, too. But he has been so kind, ever so kind. How could I ever be angry at him?

There's a voice that sometimes speaks in the walls. I don't understand it. Its words don't make sense to me. It spouts gibberish. It laughs a lot. Sometimes it sounds like it's laughing at me, and I don't like it.

I haven't introduced myself, have I? I'm

I think it's a rather nice name, don't you?

I don't know how long I walk, until finally, I'm caught in a trap.

It looks as if the walls are closing in. Oh dear, this is quite a pickle. At least this sword Ravus was so kind to lend is helpful. Getting out of this before dying would probably nice.

Oh, wouldn't you know. There's voices outside.

It's Gladio and Ignis. Hello, Gladio and Ignis. Look at this sword my brother gave me. He was being a bit silly when I met with him, lying on the floor. He even took his arm off and refused to talk to me. Do you suppose he's still mad at me?

I can't understand you unless you talk to me, Gladio probably says.

I'm talking right now, aren't I?

Gladio hugs me. He's shaking. I'm sorry, he probably says. Don't do this to me, Noct. Talk to me.

Gladio, what's wrong. Ignis? You're scaring me. And you're so silly, Gladio, that's not my name. It's

remember?

What does he look like? Ignis probably asks. Noct, are you alright?

He's not responding. He's crying. Gladio probably answers. What the hell did Ardyn do to him? He looks terrible.

Haha, what are they talking about? I'm not crying. And they keep calling me by the wrong name. Stop doing that, it's getting me annoyed.

And there's no sign of Prompto? Ignis probably says.

Who's Prompto? I ask, but as usual, they ignore me. Gladio holds me even tighter. Is there a dormitory nearby? He probably wonders aloud.

They take me there, set me down on one of the beds.

Hey, Gladio probably says to me. His voice is probably gentle, but not warm. He looks scared. How are you feeling?

I'm great, Gladio.

He takes a shaky breath. Remember that one time, he probably says, when you had that fight with Ignis? I made you hot chocolate and we ate ice cream together.

I don't remember that. When did we do that? Have I ever had ice cream with you?

Wait.

… Who are you again? I don't think I've ever met you before.

The stranger in front of me probably continues. You sort of look the same way you did back then. Miserable, not knowing what to say. You wanted to make everything better, but you didn't know how.

… I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong person.

But you did know. The man probably says. He's bearded, his hair matted and long. His clothes are a mess. He should probably clean himself up before he tries to talk to strangers. You already knew what to say, how to fix everything, Noct. You just needed a little encouragement.

His lips flicker into a smile. Maybe it isn't so different from now.

But I'm not Noct. Whoever you're looking for, it isn't me. I'm not Noct.

Maybe all you need, the stranger probably says, is a little encouragement.

Your name is Noctis Lucis Caelum, he probably says. And you are the King of Lucis. You can't fall here. Your eyes are open, but you aren't seeing. You're awake, but you're still sleeping. And you can't do that. There are still things you must do, and there are still people that need you.

I'm not Noct. I don't know who you're talking about.

Wake up, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia, the King's sworn shield, probably says. Your time is now.

I'm not Noct.

Wake up, Noctis, Gladiolus Amicitia says. I know you can see me. I know you can hear me. So wake up.

I'm not—

Wake up, Noctis, Gladiolus says. Everyone needs you.

I'm—

"Wake up, Noct," Gladio says, and his voice falters and cracks. He leans in close, so their foreheads are touching.

He kisses Noct deep and soft, painful and agonizing. His lips almost taste like tears.

"Because I can't do this without you."

Oh.

Here's the thing.

"We can't do this without him, either," A voice says. It sounds familiar.

"Hey," Noctis Lucis Caelum greets. "You're absolutely off your rocker, you know that right?"

You aren't real, though.

"Yeah, I guess I'm not," Noct says. "I'm not technically a person. It's always just been you."

I'm not you.

"You chose not to be me," Noct corrects. "That doesn't mean anything. It never meant anything, and it won't mean anything."

What do you mean?

"Look," Sighs Noct, and he sounds tired. "You're fucking batshit crazy. Ardyn messed you up. You're talking me, which shouldn't even be possible. I'm not— I'm not something you can talk to. I'm an idea. I exist because you exist. You made me. You made yourself, and it then it was your decision to not be that anymore."

I don't understand.

"Everyone hides," Noct says plainly. "You're in public, you're in front of family— whoever it is, you act differently to adjust to your surroundings. It's natural. It's healthy. There's nothing wrong with it. You know that. You've always known that.

"I'm your mask; you can't function without me. Don't even try, because it's not working. I don't even get how you managed to pretend you weren't Noct. You can't just— you can't just try to walk out there without me. You keep trying to dissociate yourself with me, this idea of me, and it's not working."

I don't— I'm trying. I don't know how to do it anymore. I don't know how I did it before.

"Before, we had Luna," and his voice softens. "She balanced me. She was everything I wasn't, and I was everything she wasn't. It's hard without her, because the scale's been tipped. You built a codependent relationship between your two identities, and then when one is gone, it's hard to keep the other afloat. Luna's gone now, and ideas can't die, not really. So I guess we weren't exactly ideas. But we were something close to that. I swear, you picked the best time to have an existential crisis.

"But at the end of the road, it's not about trying to be me," Noct continues. "Because you are me. You try to deny that you've ever met Gladio, that you've ever seen what I've seen and you've done what I've done, but you know that's a lie. You don't even have to try. You've experienced every feeling, every action Noct has. You know every thought that runs through his brain. You are him."

And that's why he shouldn't be talking to Noctis right now, because he is Noctis. There's no one telling him anything. It's just himself. It's always been himself. Just Noct and Luna. Just Noct.

It's always been that easy. It's always been that perfect contradiction.

Who are you, Ardyn Izunia mocks him.

Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia retorts. He's Noctis Lucis Caelum.

Noctis Lucis Caelum.

"Here's the thing," Noct says, to no one in particular. "I'm me."

When he fully comes to, the first thing he says to Gladio is how he's never, ever going to let him into his apartment again if he keeps stealing all the food. "You just had to bring up the ice cream, didn't you," Noct grumbles, and then he's enveloped in a bone crushing hug.

"You fucking dumbass," Gladio says, his voice muffled in Noct's shoulder. "What were you trying to pull? You had me worried. I really thought—"

"... Sorry," Noct replies. "I screwed up. I— I'm not quite sure how to describe what happened. It was… I don't know. Just, Ardyn. He said some stuff that got to me." Belatedly, he realizes that his cheeks are wet. What a sight he must have been, unresponsive, unseeing, tearing up over nothing. He must have looked terrified.

Gladio looks up, and Noct realizes that he looks like a trainwreck, his eyes are a little red. Is he… crying?

"You should've heard what he was saying," Gladio spits out. "He had me thinking you were— augh, it doesn't matter now. We're back together, and we're going to ok. Ignis is right outside, I'll go get him." He starts to let go, and Noct grabs his arm.

Noct's not quite sure what to say, because it's clear Gladio doesn't want to talk about it. He isn't one to push, but at the same time, maybe it would be better if he did. Either way, he supposes, this isn't the time. "Do you…" Noct takes a deep breath starts over again. "Luna. If I… wanted to try to 'be' her again, do you… think you could live with that?"

"Be her?"

Noct shrugs, and he struggles to explain what he means. "It's all a matter of perspective in the end. All this time, I kept thinking that Luna was gone. I guess she is, but— I still miss being her. I'm still here. At the end of the day, I'm still me, but it's just little things; mannerisms, clothing, stuff like that. I don't know. I want that back. I think I have the right to have that back."

If I was Luna, could you love her, Noct asks, and Gladio looks him in the eye and says,

"Of course."

Before long, the reunited trio becomes the quartet they had begun as.

"Prompto!" He's been tied up, chained to the wall with his arms spread, his head hanging down. They cut through the bindings, help him down.

Prompto flinches at their touch, and Noct recoils on instinct. "I'm sorry, did we—" He starts in a panic, but Prompto holds up his hand, still not looking at any of them.

"You guys," He coughs, his voice raspy for reasons Noct would rather not imagine. "You're… real, right? This isn't an illusion?" He shakes. "I'm glad. I'm so glad. There are so many things I messed up on, and— and at least I won't mess this up."

"Prompto—"

"I can't keep hiding like this."

With a deliberate purpose, Prompto carefully removes his gloves and wristbands. His fingers tremble. He holds his wrist out for everyone to see.

"Don't think any less of me," His voice cracks, and Noct can tell he's trying to resist the urge to hide it, the glaring barcode printed on his skin. "Don't let this change what you think of me."

That barcode. Noct knows what it means. Niflheim developed the magitek; essentially mass-produced, controllable daemons. Brought up in labs, barcoded and numbered, raised to be weapons, Ardyn had said.

"I escaped a long, long time ago," Prompto says. "I never thought I would see this place again. But, I can't deny it anymore. I'm— I'm one of them."

And the thing is, Noct really doesn't care. He's surprised, yes, but he doesn't give a shit. Seeing Prompto's horrified face makes angry, seeing the state he's in is terrible, but a goddamn barcode? He doesn't care some stupid tattoo. Noct's ready to tell him no, it doesn't change anything, but Ignis places a steady hand on Prompto's shoulder.

"We've never thought any less of you, for anything." He says. "Rather, it is you who thinks less of yourself, and that is the only reason why any of this matters."

Prompto jerks up in surprise, and Gladio comes toward him. "You're an annoying little brat," He says wryly, slapping Prompto lightly on the back. "No one gives a shit about whether you're from Niflheim, because it really doesn't change who you are."

"I—" Prompto stutters. "I could've been a spy! You guys would… believe me so easily? Just like that?"

Gladio raises a brow. "Yeah."

"I don't see what's so difficult to understand," Ignis says calmly, but they're both smiling and Noct snorts softly. Both of them are ridiculously calm, to the point where it's clear they're faking it just to unnerve Prompto. He's getting deja vu.

"Listen," and he takes Prompto's uncovered arm. "I made you promise that you wouldn't let anyone stop from being what you wanted to be. This," And he jabs at the black marks. "Doesn't mean anything if you don't want it to be. So don't make it mean anything."

"It's not that easy," Prompto says weakly in return, and he's right. It's never that easy.

"I know," Noct says, and he hugs Prompto's skinny frame. "It must've been hard to tell all of us. I'm so, so sorry I got you kidnapped. I'm sorry it took so long to get to you, and that you were alone all this time. But I'm not sorry that no one cares."

Prompto must really be the strongest of them all. In not long at all, Noct had cracked under the pressure. Gladio had as well, and Ignis— he doesn't know, but both of them had been very quiet about what Ardyn had said to them. But Prompto, he's right here, battered and bruised but still kicking.

"I'm just glad," Prompto says, muffled. "That you came to get me to begin with. You guys are the best friends I could ask for. The absolute best friends."

"We were the ones that left you," Noct sniffs. "I can't believe you still think so highly of me."

Prompto laughs, and for just a second, everything is alright.

At the highest level of Zegnautus Keep, they break into the throne room, and find a whirring and humming machine of some sorts. Once it's broken, Noct finds that he can summon his weapons again. It's a breath of relief, because using the ring had been unreliable and painful.

Taking the elevator, they finds themselves back in the hangar. The gate onwards is across the clearing, and they don't take one step before Ardyn murmurs, his voice sickly sweet, "I have one more present for you, my dear."

The sound of a low groaning can be heard. Stumbling footsteps.

What is it now? Noct licks his chapped lips. Another daemon, probably. He's expecting anything, everything.

He doesn't expect this.

"Kill me," A dead man rasps at him, his white hair turning black, his left arm a black monstrosity, spreading across his chest and heart and a horn on his head, and Noct wonders if he can even see, with tar pouring out of his eyes. "End this."

For a strange second, even though it's obvious, Noct doesn't recognize him.

"End it, Lunafreya," Ravus Nox Fleuret says to him, the starscourge taking its heavy toll, and he holds out his corrupted arm, almost as a plea.

"What do you think of another sibling spat?" Ardyn asks them cheerfully. "It will just be like old times, will it not?"

And without warning, Ravus charges.

Fighting him is hard. Like always, he is inhumanly strong, and only now Noct's beginning to understand why. But this is, this isn't someone he can fight. He falters whenever there's an opening. His attacks are not as fierce as they should be. He's reluctant to use magic on him.

"Noct, stay out of this," Ignis calls. "You do not have to do this to yourself."

"We'll," Gladio grunts, "Take care of it."

"You can't win without me," Noct protests, and he's right. Ravus is strong, stronger than the other daemons in this stronghold.

"Noct, it's your brother," Prompto says, his voice caring. "We can't just let you— OW." He yelps as he gets sliced on the arm.

Noct tosses him a potion, ignores everyone except the enemy in front of them, and takes out his trident.

Ravus is dead. He's long since been dead, and Ardyn did something to him that made him into this, Noct knows that. He shouldn't feel bad about anything. He shouldn't hesitate from striking him down.

But he's dead because of Noct. If only he hadn't— if only Luna hadn't told him, and then he would still be alright. Ravus, Ravus, who isn't standing in front of him now because this isn't him, this amalgamation everything wrong and a shell of a body.

He flinches at the sight of the trident. Recognizes it. Noct swings it with expertise, daring him to try and stop him.

"I'll fix this," He tells him. "I'll end this."

(It's a long fight. Ravus doesn't go easy on them. Noct tries not to go easy on him, either. In a way, Ardyn was right. The fight is just a cruel parody of an argument between siblings. The jab at each other, meaning to hurt, but in the end neither of them really want the other to succumb to defeat.)

In the end, Ravus falls. He drops his sword, which clatters to the ground, slumps forward, first on his knees, then eventually his entire body topples.

Noct stumbles over to him, the trident dematerializing. Ravus turns his head in his direction, and Noct can't tell what he's thinking beyond those soulless eyes. He grips Ravus' hand, clawed and daemon-like, black substance dripping off it.

"Blessed," Noct starts, and starts again. "Blessed stars of— of life and light—"

He breaks it off, because maybe Luna would have been able to heal this, this sickness, with the black tar of the starscourge pouring out of his eye and mouth and ear; but Noct, Noct can do nothing but hold his hand helplessly as Ravus chokes and gasps, the others silent beside him.

He stretches his other hand towards Noct. "Noctis," He rasps.

"Ravus, you…"

"Noctis," Ravus whispers. "Lunafreya."

"Ravus, just," Noct fumbles with his inventory. What does he even have with him, some elixirs, potions; where is it, where is it— a phoenix down. "Just shut up for a bit."

"You cannot heal me," Ravus croaks. "I am already dead."

"I said to shut up," Noct snaps, and he brings the feather close to Ravus' heart. It glows a crimson red, but nothing happens, nothing happens because this isn't something a phoenix down could ever heal.

"I am sorry," Ravus says helplessly, and Noct puts down the feather and he has nothing; he has never had anything because Ravus was never his to have.

"Why are you such a fool?" Noct asks him weakly. "Why must you always disregard what I say?"

Only Ravus can barely respond, and his head turns ever so slightly so that Noct can see the glaze of his black eyes and his mouth parts just an inch, the blackness dribbling out. He mouths his words.

And then he's gone.

(Ravus leaves Altissia with nothing but empty hopes and bitter words between his last living family member, and then Luna is dead. And then he dies too, and the last thing he ever hears her say isn't what Noct wanted him to hear.

Give him the sword, Luna says, and then she is gone without even a goodbye. But that's not what Noct wanted Ravus to remember her with.

Just, just shut up. I said shut up. Why do you never listen to me, Noct asks him. But that's not what he wanted Ravus to hear.

Live, Ravus mouths, and then he is gone.)

"Ok, Ravus," Noct whispers, and he lets go of his hand. "I'll live. I'll live for both of us. I promise."

And then he reaches the end.

Noct runs alone, because after Ravus dissipates into nothingness, hordes upon hordes of daemons are suddenly upon them, and he knows what Ardyn is trying to do.

"There is a chance that the Crystal may give us the power to destroy these daemons," Ignis says. "We will hold them off, Noct, so hurry! The Crystal lies just ahead."

He's trying to separate them, but what can Noct do but agree to this? He heads down to the lower level, past the gate, up the elevator, warping past daemons that come after him, they're not important right now, right now all he needs is to reach the Crystal and call for its power. He's the Chosen. He can do this.

The Crystal is chained, surrounded in glowing blue and purple. It looks the same as it once did in the tower of the Citadel. Tendrils of light reach at Noct. His run slows to a walk.

"Please," He says to it. "Please help me." He holds out his hand. Help me save my friends. Help me stop Ardyn. Help me save the world.

He's not sure what he's expecting. A weapon of some sorts? Any sort of immeasurable power, really.

A tendril reaches out to him, and pulls.

Noct gasps, then realizes that he can't let go. It keeps pulling him in, and with shock he finds that his hand has been absorbed into the rock.

"So you've finally arrived," Ardyn Izunia says behind him, and Noct turns as best he can, struggling to pull his arm back out, but it's no use. He can't fight like this. The Crystal pulls even, more, and his arm sinks in another inch.

"Let me tell you a story," Ardyn takes leisurely steps forward. "Thousands of years ago, there was a king. He was chosen by the Crystal and the Six to right the world, cure the scourge. They granted him the power to wield the glaives of his ancestors, to heal the afflicted, and two bodies of his own to reside on the mortal plane with."

Noct gasps and pants. The Crystal starts to take in his shoulder.

"Yet, darkness poured into his heart, as the more he healed, the more of the scourge he absorbed. By some strange consequence of everything, he lost control of all he had. His crown, his reputation, his hopes. In some ways, he even lost himself. And what an odd sight that was— by some strange consequence, he had become not one, but two.

"The Astrals scorned him. He scorned himself. And he vowed that he would have his revenge, destroy it all."

What does any of this mean? What does Ardyn mean? Noct's lifted from the ground his legs melting into the rock, and Ardyn looks up at him, and Noct sees a monster.

"Ardyn Lucis Caelum is my proper name," Ardyn adjusts his hat, and his dark eyes seem more vengeful than they've ever been. His lips form a facsimile of a smile, but all Noct can see through the panic is anger, anger and more anger. He laughs and laughs, and he says to Noct, as if he's sharing a secret, "I wonder what Izunia would have said if he saw this."

Ardyn Izunia— Lucis Caelum— whoever he is, whatever he is, is the last thing Noct sees before he is swallowed.

only one more and we're done folks! i did not realize how long this and the last chapter were gonna take and i rly, rly hope the last chapter wont take a month; its not meant to be esp lengthy. i would offer some teaser lines as appeasement but every single sentence is so spoilery i cant even do that

also it was my birthday yesterday (friday)! im sweating i told myself during winter break when i first started writing this that by the time st. pattys passed id be long done with this but here i am, months later, still in hell