Author's Note:

Violence and character death.


Power. Lunafreya had never asked for it, but she'd had the privilege of being born with an abundance of it. It came at a cost, however, as power always did. From the very moment of her ascension after the death of her mother, her life had no longer been her own. She and her abilities belonged to the people—to ease their suffering in this blighted world and speak to the mortal on behalf of the divine, a calling she'd been only too honored to undertake.

It wasn't common knowledge that the magic of the Fleuret family was not derived of their Oracle lineage, just as it wasn't common knowledge that the position of Oracle wasn't necessarily a hereditary title at all. The only reason Oracles had predominantly been chosen from her family, with a few exceptions, was because of the magic of the gods House Fleuret been blessed with—from the founding member of their line onward.

Sylva Via Fleuret, may the gods rest her soul, had been gifted with the power of the Inferno and the healing power of the Blessed Star of Light and Life, abilities that had not only allowed her to cleanse the soil and sky of blight and heal Noctis on that fateful day the Empire invaded, but had also enabled her to step between Ravus and General Glauca's fires of war without injury. Would that she had been just as immune to his steel. Perhaps then Ravus wouldn't have been lost to a slower, more insidious destruction—his lust for power and revenge.

Ravus, too, had been gifted with the magic of the gods that was so very distinct to the Fleuret line—the Power of Earth (a curious appellation derived from the Archaean), lending to his prodigious strength, and the Power of the Storm. Perhaps his lust for power had begun not with the assassination of their mother, but when the Power of the Blessed Star had skipped over him to be inherited by Lunafreya, ensuring that she would be the ascending ruler of Tenebrae and act as the mouthpiece for the divine—not him. Their mother's death had merely spurred him in that direction, much to Lunafreya's heartbreak, driving him to turn on Lucis and betray their mother's memory.

She'd let go of King Regis's hand that day because she'd known even as a girl that not only did her people need her, Ravus needed her. But despite all her attempts to coax him back to the light, she'd had to watch as the intervening twelve years changed him—bound by the past and lost in the power granted to him by the very same commanders that had slaughtered Sylva Via Fleuret. He'd become a coward—unable to face that it hadn't been King Regis to murder her, but those who had made him their lapdog. Perhaps his explanation for events had been easier for him to face than the truth.

Lunafreya would have thought that the history of their family would have taught him: True power was not found by those who sought it. It was something that came to those who deserved it.

He'd been fortunate not to have been consumed by the very power he'd sought when he'd put on the Ring of the Lucii. Instead, the experience seemed to have finally set him on the path of acceptance and redemption. Lunafreya herself had taken the long and difficult road that had been her duty, but when her foolish mortal body had begun to break down, she'd known that his newfound humility would hold him fast to House Fleuret's sworn duty to House Lucis Caelum. She could finally trust him to do the right thing and see the Ring to Noctis when she was unable to.

Only, he'd refused.

He'd been right to do so, proving, at least to her, that he had found his peace at last. In that moment of human frailty, she'd believed her ephemeral body lacked the strength to fulfill her destiny. But his words had bolstered her will, her determination to see this through.

Of course, the time for that strength had now run out.

When her status had been elevated from Oracle to Chosen Oracle, Lunafreya had known that the position would take her life when the time came to forge the covenants so that Noctis could banish the Darkness. This most recent pact with the Hydraean had left her reeling and weak, no matter how much she fought against the vertigo that had increasingly threatened to topple her over. The battering she'd received from the goddess as a test of her faith hadn't exactly soothed the pains of her mortal shell, either.

But though she'd always known her calling would end her life, she hadn't expected it to be at the blade of the very darkness that would one day be responsible for taking Noctis's life. It was poetic, in a way—a just punishment for having kept his fate secret all these years. But foreknowledge was the price the Chosen Oracle had to pay in order to know when to begin awakening the Six, to know when to set the prophecy in motion.

Her skin and muscle seemed to wrap around the blade as it thrust into her gut, welcoming the intrusion and holding it there for several moments as though it were a long-awaited visit from an old friend. Lunafreya couldn't stifle the grunt from the force of the thrust, taken by surprise as she'd been from Ardyn's swift strike. But the pain that spread out in blossoming tendrils like the blood seeping over the white silk of her dress was certainly familiar to her, mishandled as often as she'd been as a child, and would certainly garner no tears from her.

"I will pass the Ring to the rightful King," she managed as calmly as she could, holding a hand to her belly to stem the tide of blood gushing from the wound. Her end might have been inevitable here at the hands of Ardyn Lucis Caelum Izunia, but there were still duties to perform before she could rest.

His hand whipped out, grasping her chin as those heartless eyes arrested hers. Even clouding as her vision was, she could see the darkness swirling in their tawny depths, but she felt no fear. What did she have left to lose, after all? Looking deeper, she thought she could discern the smallest spark of good in him, still lying dormant beneath all that suffering had heaped upon him. After all, he, too had been given the Power of the Blessed Star and had once used it to clear the scourge even more effectively than she. Lunafreya could have just as easily been the one in his position had she been born two thousand years' previous.

So much pain, such great suffering—and not only from him, but all over Eos. She'd toiled so very long and hard to erase her own identity, to become the vessel for hope and healing as was requested of her by the gods. She would not betray that calling, not even in her last moments, not even for the man that had taken her life. Even her healing power wasn't enough to dispel the darkness roiling within him, but if she could just alleviate his suffering for a mere moment, give him the gift of remembering the man he'd once been, she would have remained true to herself in these final moments.

Lunafreya wrapped her fingers gently around his wrist, calling forth the power of the Blessed Star, and he released her chin immediately in response to the golden glow emanating from her. Ardyn's hand seemed to soften, even if the malicious light in his eyes and smile remained as she looked up at him.

"When the prophecy is fulfilled, all in thrall to darkness shall know peace," she promised, because even he, one day, would be able to find rest from this torment.

At her words, the smug satisfaction melted from his face, his expression growing wistful, thoughtful, fathomless. That softness only lasted a moment, however, before his eyes grew hard and his lips turned down into a scowl. Snatching his hand away, he brought it around to backhand her hard as she collapsed onto the stone, the pain in her abdomen seeming to make way for the pain radiating from her cheek for a few seconds before taking over again.

The familiar roar of a Magitek engine grew close behind her, along with the creaking that could only be the cargo doors opening, as Ardyn stood and sauntered in the aircraft's direction.

"How sweet . . .," he simpered with a dramatic bow, "but please, Lady Lunafreya, you first."

It wasn't until he'd gone that Lunafreya looked to Noctis, floating on the wreckage of what was once a building in the middle of the bay several yards away. He needed her help; Leviathan's great open jaws hovered over his prone form as though she were about to swallow him whole, and given the fight Lunafreya had had to put up to forge the covenant in the first place, it wasn't completely unlikely that the goddess wouldn't eat him alive. Lunafreya knew from experience that the gods' trials tested the faith of even the strongest of men, but she was no man. Her faith, her faith in Noct and his ability to prove himself a worthy king, could move mountains. He'd promised her, after all, that he would never let her down, and it was his word along with the bond that they'd forged over the last twelve years that allowed her to stand up to gods and daemons alike.

Leaning on her trident, she summoned that magic of the gods, the Power of the Star, sending it shooting into the atmosphere above. It was a call to arms, one that the twelve Old Kings could not ignore. She could feel the golden power of their souls join with Noctis as her own trident shimmered and disappeared into his armiger. Bereft of support, she collapsed once more to the ground.

She rolled over onto her back, watching as Noctis rose into the air and summoned his Royal Armiger, pouring every last iota of his strength and the power of his ancestors into a renewed attack on Leviathan. He was so full of goodness, fighting as he was to save his fellow man. It was that goodness, that light she saw in his heart, that shone a beacon on the goodness in all the hearts of men. She had seen it reflected in every pair of eyes of those she'd healed since she'd ascended.

This world would not, could not fall to darkness so long as there existed a single spark of her consciousness—whether she resided in the mortal realm or the beyond. It mattered not that her ephemeral shell was failing, she would continue to fight alongside him for the future of the people she loved—her brother, Tenebrae, the world. That light of goodness would endure long after she and Noctis had departed this realm as a testament to their love and devotion for each other and all of humanity.

Noctis drew her trident above his shoulder and flung it at Leviathan's throat, catching the handle as the points dug deep into the goddess's scales. Freefalling down the great serpent's neck and dragging the weapon along with him, he rent a massive tear in her flesh, spraying her watery igor in every direction as she threw her head back with a thunderous roar.

"It's done," she heard him whisper as he came to a gentle landing on his back beside her.

But as the power released him, he lost his grip on consciousness, his expression growing pale and slack. It must have drained too much from him—a feeling she was well-familiar with—and his mortal body must not have had enough energy to keep his heart beating.

Dragging her failing form to his, she was finally able to look on his face free of their masks . . . after all this time. Despite how difficult these intervening years must have been for him, he was still beautifully soft—his large almond-shaped eyes, which she knew from the masquerade still shone a brighter blue than the sky on even the most glorious of days; his angled chin and jaw; those perfect lips that had always been a bit chewed and chapped, even when he'd been younger.

All these twelve long years, she'd wanted nothing more than to see him again, but wherever she'd gone, the Empire had followed. It had been her duty to protect Noctis, just as it had been her duty to sacrifice herself to restore the Light, so she'd eschewed her foolish fantasies in favor of keeping him alive, choosing instead to send her soul along in a book.

Their laughter together as children was the last time she'd laughed—the last time she'd known what joy felt like. As her calling in this realm had been fulfilled before she could truly meet up with him again, it seemed as though those few moments would be the only ones she could look back on when she brought them with her to the beyond. Perhaps, before her soul was dragged into the Crystal, she could visit him one last time before they were reunited.

There was one final duty to perform for him—her honor. She may have never asked for this power, but Lunafreya Nox Fleuret was certainly going to use it to save those she loved, to save him. As much as she wanted to press her lips to his, it would have been wrong to do so while he was unconscious, so she settled for pressing their foreheads together as she began to chant.

"Blessed Stars of Light and Life . . .."


Author's Note:

I know several will be unhappy at this, but I truly believe the ending Noct and Luna get is the happiest possible one for them, despite the pain they suffer. I'm not completely finished with them just yet.

Some of the information in this chapter is canon, according to the incredible researchers of the reddit moderators, such as the ability to heal the scourge not being a required ability of the Oracle.

The whole Power of the Inferno, Power of the Storm, Power of the Blessed Star was me, attempting to explain the powers of House Fleuret as shown in the game and movie and weaving it into my own lore.

I spent a lot of time deciding whether or not Lunafreya knew about everything, and judging by what she said to Ardyn after she was stabbed, it was enough to tip the scales for me. I decided she most certainly did, so there you go.